


Above the Waves and Current

by LunaticFrench



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Break Up, Cheating, Couch Sex, Falling In Love, First Dates, Gay Bar, Implied/Referenced Underage, Jewish Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve, POV Alternating, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Male Character, implied/reference prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaticFrench/pseuds/LunaticFrench
Summary: When Ariya had decided to visit the Final Cut, it was only out of boredom. He never thought he'd meet a young man with a strong attitude and stronger accent, nor that he'd fall for him after a single talk with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Back again with a multi-chaptered fic! Once again, I do not consider myself as being transgender and I hope not to offend the community picturing a trans male character. If anything that I write sounds wrong, please tell me!  
> PS: English isn't my mother tongue, mistakes might have slipped in while editing...

It was a Saturday night like any other. Ariya was simply a little more bored. He could’ve done anything, really, long as it had a price. He had thought of a week in Las Vegas, or maybe a weekend in Dubai, he had decided against it at the last moment. He wasn’t willing to spend time with his kin tonight. He loathed their complaints about their employees, their beliefs that they deserved more than they already had, their vanity and greediness. Sure, Ariya was one of them, but those words only ever sounded good coming from his own mouth. No, tonight, he was decided to go where he always went to mix with the common folk.

The _Final Cut_ was an almost-hidden bar downtown. Situated underground, in-between another bar Ariya had never entered and a former optic center that had closed, now turned into a gold buyer that looked a tad too shady. The _Final Cut_ had no sign showing its entrance, no bright neon lights claiming it was open. A single swinging lamp was turned on above the wooden door. The ramp of the stone stairs was rusty, its red paint had washed off years ago. From the outside, the bar looked like nothing, an old abandoned place left for rats and ghosts.

Ariya knocked at the door and waited. Winter was coming around the corner and the cold was hitting his uncovered skin. Inside, the atmosphere was hot and heavy, and he didn’t opt for a coat when he exited his home. He crossed his arms to keep from shaking. The peephole finally opened, lighting the dark street with its bright yellow rays of light. A man appeared, his blue eyes scanning Ariya for a few seconds. He only recognized him when he opened the door.

The _Final Cut_ had two hired security guards. One was a friend of Ariya, coming from New York, named Tony Nese. He was impressive by his stature, but really sweet and welcoming towards the clients. Some troublemakers had already tried his patience, judging him only by his small height and his warm eyes. Ariya remembered they hit first, then got their jaw almost broken when Nese retaliated. It was a good memory, really. He really appreciated the man. They met when Tony started dating a man he saw as his best friend, Drew Gulak. When Nese was looking for a job, Ariya used his influence. There were few people he didn’t know in this city.

The second was facing him. A young British with sarcasm in his smile and boredom in his eyes. Ariya wasn’t fond of him, acting as if he didn’t know who the Iranian-American was, how he could’ve made of his life a living hell by a single call. If he wasn’t working here, Pete Dunne would’ve seemed like one of those types you’d keep away from the bar. His hands were always bandaged. His face always bruised from his recent fight. He was a good person to secure the place, not to welcome the clients.

“Mr. Daivari,” he said, nodding at him unimpressively, “Come on in.”

“Tony’s sick?” he asked, still surprised to see Dunne.

The British was working during the week, opening for the regulars that wouldn’t be scared by his presence. He knew his question came off as rude, but Pete only shrugged.

“The fuck do I know?” he retorted, “So, you’re coming in?”

Ariya made a mental note to talk to the owner about his guard’s behavior as he entered the bar. Music was blasting inside, muffled in the long corridor. The _Final Cut_ had been built from an old cellar. The humidity was forming on the low ceiling, sending shivers of disgust through his spine. He liked experiencing these few hours as a common person once every month but couldn’t comprehend how someone could’ve spent each weekend -hell each week- in this dark and dirty place.

The bar was hot, stiffening almost. Men of all ages and origins were gathered here, drunk and horny. Some were dancing in the center of the room to the music played by the DJ. Some were sitting at the bar, sipping from fancy drinks, ogling at the crowd with hungry eyes. Some were hidden in dark corners, giving in to their carnal desires. Ariya settled with option number two. He sat on one of the stools in the middle, back turned to the bar to observe the people around. The barman came around. He saluted him and gestured to be served what he usually demanded.

Jack Gallagher had arrived from the UK years before Dunne did, but contrary to the guard, he was a self-titled gentleman. He always was a bit cold towards Ariya, talking to him as little as he could. It was understandable, really. They had been dating a few months in high school, but their personalities were a little too strong to match. They decided to live their separate ways before their relationship turned toxic. He had been with a certain Brian for a few years. He never said anything but had some thoughts about their ten-year age-gap.

Jack served him his whiskey. Ariya observed him with an appreciative smile. He sure knew how to dress with his beige dress pants and jacket and white shirt which sleeves had been rolled up around his elbows. He looked up, seeing that Jack was ogling back with a raised eyebrow. Ariya smiled awkwardly. He didn't mean to stare, but always appreciated a well-dressed man. Jack approached and whispered in his ear.

“10 o’clock. By the table,” he told him to look, resting on the counter, “The young man in the navy and white printed shirt and black pants. Thick head and thicker accent. I’m pretty sure he’s your type.”

He left Ariya wondering about that person he could barely see in the crowd. He was easy to spot, however as he was probably the only person fully clothed, from toes to wrists. He did seem young, younger than he probably was if he could entered the bar. Ariya liked his short wavy hair, his rough beard, but above all his attitude. Men went after him, murmuring sweet promises and lusty demands in his ear. The youngster would laugh it off, then looked at them straight in the eyes and say something that often made them walk away. He noticed his tongue poking out each time they quit, his smile as he added one last remark.

The stranger finally settled at the counter after a moment, next to Ariya. He observed him closer now. He noticed a lack of ring or tan mark on his fingers. Good. His hands seemed really smooth, probably a pleasure to touch. He was rather small, shorter than Ariya anyway. He was walking with confidence, spoke to Jack as if he was the one owning the place. Daivari realized he was smiling. He was his type. The man suddenly turned to him, arms open, swirling around himself.

“Like what you see?” he told him, leaning closer.

“Sorry,” he answered automatically, “Didn’t mean to stare.”

“Sure, you didn’t,” he chuckled.

Ariya knew his lips were still parted, but he didn’t think of saying anything. His accent was quite thick indeed, so much so he wasn’t even sure he understood him correctly. He felt his heart beat faster with each syllable. The man seemed even hotter now that he spoke. He turned to face him, leaning so close he had to rest on the counter not to fall on Ariya.

“Noam,” he winked, “Nice to meet you, mate!”

Ariya blinked a couple of times. What did he say? He said, ‘meet you’, right? Ariya felt lost, but smiled at the feeling.

“A-Ariya. Likewise, I think.”

“Don’t remember ever seeing you here,” he said before finishing his drink, a smile playing on his lips.

“I don't come often,” he shrugged, “Not really my usual place to hang out.”

“I’m lucky to be here tonight, then,” he giggled, eyes locked on Ariya.

He looked down to his glass, blush creeping in on his face. He was the one feeling lucky, flirting this easily with such a handsome man. He finished his whiskey in one gulp. He hoped the burn of the alcohol running down his throat would make him forget about the twisting in his stomach, the little butterfly wings tickling him. It didn't.

“Want something else to drink?” he asked, nodded toward his empty glass.

“I-if you’re offering this nicely,” Noam smiled, but his face turned quite red at the offer. Maybe he wasn't too confident after all.

None of them left the bar after that, nor each other's side. Ariya kept sipping whiskey. Noam kept piling mojitos. It was impressive to see him drink that much given his size. He was barely tipsy after his fourth drink. They managed to talk over the music, but it wasn't difficult for the younger man. He was quite loud, even louder as more alcohol was running in his veins. Ariya realized he wondered if he would be still that loud in bed, the sole thought of him whimpering fifth with his accent made him shiver. His thoughts were growing dirtier with each passing moment at his side.

Ariya couldn't really tell what they talked about. A bit about the bar, a bit about their drinks, mostly about themselves. Noam was born in Israel, moved to Scotland at age five, then here a couple of years back. He didn't need to say much more to get Ariya intrigued. They spent the next half-hour talking in Farsi and Hebrew, chuckling like idiots when one tried the other’s language on his tongue. He could now insult someone's mother and ask for a blowjob, trying to remember the latter just in case.

“You don’t drink much,” Noam noticed suddenly, nodding at his drink. His third since he arrived.

“Why should I?” he shrugged, putting the glass on the counter, “I'm having fun without.”

He gave him a lopsided smile and saw his face, reddened with the alcohol, flustered even more. He smiled back, eyes glimmering.

“Can think of something funnier,” he proposed.

He leaned close to Ariya, lips ghosting on his. He closed his eyes, but didn't feel anything. Noam had grabbed his drink, gulping the rest loudly, then licking his lips slowly. His tongue stayed out of his mouth a second too long, hypnotizing the other man. Noam left his stool and stepped into his personal space. His hands found his thighs as he settled between his spread legs. He leaned until his mouth was on his ear, proposing something in Hebrew. Ariya lost his breath, and soon his mind if he had kept going.

“Come to my place,” Ariya said a bit harshly, “Please?”

“I could just suck your cock right here,” he proposed, his hand teasing the bulge forming in his pants.

Ariya knew no one would mind seeing the youngster blowing him off in the middle of the bar, some would’ve enjoyed it even. The image was tempting, but he shook his head.

“That's not my style, baby,” he whispered back, hands on his hips, “My place is far better anyway.”

“That's a long trip for a _metsitsah_ ,” he complained, fingers playing with his zipper.

“I hope you'd be on board for more,” he confessed.

Noam stepped back quickly, looking into his eyes with an expression he couldn't comprehend. He tried to pull him back against him, to feel his skin radiated heat through his shirt, but Noam pushed back. He was about to speak, to worry and apologize for being too bold, but the Scottish reacted first.

“Y-yeah, sure. Let… let me get something real quick,” he looked almost panicked suddenly, looking everywhere but in his eyes.

He let him go and realized only after waiting a few minutes that he wouldn't come back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Here comes a new chapter. So, a few notes here just to tell you that:  
> 1\. Tony is really dumb in this fic, and I kinda dig it.  
> 2\. I might not update this fic as often as I intended to because I might or might not have bought the new South Park game and became a tad obsessed with it. Which means that, good news! I already finished the game once and bad news... I'm going for the Token Experience and the DLCs...  
> Sorry in advance and love y'all!

Ariya tried to believe he didn't mind being left alone in the _Final Cut_. He tried to believe that it wasn't the first time, that he didn't mind and even already forgot about this Noam guy. He just couldn't. He was a Daivari, one of the most influential clans in town. No one said no to a Daivari, let alone blue-ball him in an obscure bar at three in the morning. Who did he think he was?

After a few days of pretending he was alright, his pride had been too hurt for him to just turn the page. He had to meet that guy again, have a serious talk to know why he had disappeared. He didn't think he had said something wrong, but the hypotheses had been clouding his mind, taking him away from Morpheus's arms and making him anxious. Their last moment together kept replaying in his mind, trying to understand his uneasiness moments before vanishing.

He decided for a quick drive at Jack's place in the afternoon. He lived a few blocks away from the bar, in an apartment situated on top of the shop owned by his partner. He felt lucky to find a place to park on the other side of the street. Their place was accessible via a door next to the shop’s entrance. Brian feared that customers would try to sneak into their home if it was accessible from the store. He was paranoid like that.

The door finally opened after he let one finger on the bell for a moment. The ringing was echoing on the walls so strongly Ariya could hear it from the outside, with the crowded traffic of a Monday afternoon. His smile fell when he noticed he wasn't welcomed by his red-haired ex, but by an annoyed hobo-looking old man.

“Brian,” he greeted, faking happiness, “I-”

“Jack's asleep,” he cut short, looking him up and down disdainfully, “Go away.”

“Listen, you know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent.”

“I… couldn't care less,” he confessed, animosity thick in the air, “Leave him alone.”

“We really need to talk about what happened at the bar,” he explained, knowing which button to push.

“Wait? What happened?” he snapped, opening the door wide to have a better look at Ariya.

“Well,” he stated, holding his smile, “I bought him some drinks, and we started kissing, and I asked him to spend the night home and…”

Brian was livid, his clear eyes bulging out of his skull. His mouth opened and closed without a single sound coming out. His face turned bright red. He seemed to be willing to crush Ariya's face against the pavement for a moment, before facing the other way.

“Jack!” he yelled, “Wake up!”

They kept facing each other silently until Jack arrived. Ariya was holding his laugh, Brian his fists. He almost felt bad as his blue eyes shimmered. He was almost crying of rage and he would've apologized if he wasn't his ex’s lover.

“What is it, Brian?” the bartender asked behind him.

Jack was rubbing his eyes swollen with fatigue. His hair was disheveled, his mustache twisted in an ugly angle. His yawn turned into a sigh upon noticing the visitor.

“What do you possibly want this time, Ariya?”

“Yes, Ariya,” Brian yelled out of his mind, “Tell him what you so need to! Or maybe I should leave you some space, huh? Do you wanna spend another night with that fucking douche?”

The last question was for Jack, who looked back at his partner in shock. He almost replied something, a snarky remark or a reassuring comment, before blinking and realizing what had probably happened… once again.

“What have you told him this time?” he asked Ariya, a deadpan expression on his face as his arms wrapped around Brian.

“Only what happened between Noam and I,” he shrugged without being able to hide his smug smile anymore, “That's why I need you.”

“Wait? Noam?” Brian asked.

He finally understood he had been fooled and would've launched himself at him and punched his face if Jack wasn't holding him back. He insulted him and his mother until forced to go wait in the kitchen.  Jack came back to the door, ogling at the visitor darkly.

“You're a bloody prick, you know?”

“Can't help it if he's that dumb,” he sneered, but Jack wasn't amused, “C’mon, you must be dating for ten years now. So much for trusting you.”

“What do you want?” he asked coldly, ignoring his comments.

“That guy that was my type. He ran off,” he explained, earning his attention, “I need to know who he is.”

“Oh my God, someone ditched the great younger heir of the Daivari fortune,” he declared, overacting his surprised.

“Yeah, can you believe it?” he played the game, imitating the tone used in those Hispanic soap operas, “But seriously though, you know anything about him?”

“You're not about to stalk him, are you?” he inquired and Ariya shook his head, “Good. I don't know much about him. He mostly comes during the week, has some fun, and goes home. We never talk much. He barely ever pays for his own drinks.”

He shrugged, realizing how little he knew about him. Ariya felt his body emptying of hope and energy. He feared Noam had escaped from his embrace, a shame for a man that attractive.

“Now that I think of it,” he said suddenly, “I'm pretty sure Nese told him about the _Final Cut_. You should see him, maybe.”

His heartbeats picked up with the news. He felt that he was about to scream like a high schooler but bit his lip at the last second. His emotions were visible in his eyes, however, and Jack smiled back and rolled his eyes. He seemed about to add something, probably to mock him, but Ariya hugged him instead.

“Thank you,” he let out, ecstatic, before yelling, “Bye Brian, love ya! Bye Jack, love ya even more!”

They could hear the older man yell something back, probably walking back to him to finally punch him. Ariya crossed the street back to his car rapidly. He looked back as he opened the door to see Jack massaging his temples, his shoulders shaking from laughter as Brian seemed ready to throw a stone at his black Maserati Quattroporte.

Tony Nese and Drew Gulak lived outside of town in a small house with a rather impressive garden. His best friend was teaching at the nearest college and his pay was sufficient for the both of them to live easily. Their home was always neat and clean, with a big portal and security cameras in the front garden and backyard. Drew was really anxious about safely.

He was the one that opened the white glass door upon his arrival. He smiled at him brightly, enhancing the bags under his eyes. He just came back from work, and on Mondays, he was teaching the freshmen.

“Hey Ariya, long time not see,” he greeted him, opening his door wide open for him to enter.

He had barely walked in that their labrador welcomed him by jumping on his jeans. Ariya complained, but didn't mind the affection. They had two animals. A Persian cat named Cupcake whose attitude was quite what Ariya expected of a fellow Iranian, and Ben Jerry whose name had been chosen by himself and Tony late during a drinken night because Nese liked ice cream and calling him B.J. was somehow hilarious. The labrador soon ran back elsewhere, letting the humans walk to the kitchen.

They settled around the counter with a glass of water for each. They talked a moment about Drew's work and his students. He always had a new story to tell, whether filled with hope or stupidity. It was dumb this time.

“Alright, listen,” he said, explaining that some kid came to him with this riddle, “If you were born five years ago, how old would you be?”

“Thirty-three,” he answered, puzzled.

Drew shook his head.

“But if I was born five years ago!” he started annoyed, but realizing, “I'd be five. Five years old.”

“Yeah, took me a while too,” he chuckled, “Tony has given up after an hour of yelling he'd be thirty-seven.”

Somehow, it didn't even surprise Ariya. Tony was nice, but still a dumb jock. He was lucky to have found Drew, his perfect counterpart. He had doubted the possibility of their relationship for over a year. One being pan, the other ace, but he could see now how they were just made for each other.

“Speaking of the devil, is he awake?” he asked, guessing he had been working until the _Final Cut_ closed.

“Yeah, he woke up about an hour ago. Why?”

“I,” he hesitated a moment, fearing to hear Drew's dating advice, “I need to ask a favor.”

“You know he can't fire Dunne, right? Mr. Rhodes loves that guy,” he shrugged, having heard Ariya complain enough times to know he didn’t like the kid.

“No, it's… about something else.”

Drew stayed silent a moment, waiting for him to explain further. Ariya didn't, only smiled awkwardly until he stood up to get Tony. He made another mental note however, to talk with the owner of the _Final Cut_. Surely, there was a way to part ways with the arrogant and rude guard.

Tony arrived with his usual warm smile, squeezing Ariya’s shoulder to get his attention. He was shirtless, showing around his chiseled eight-pack. It wasn’t an odd sight to see, really. Tony only wore shirts to work, and one day during a snowstorm. He sat where Drew used to, facing him. The Iranian-American opened the discussion by asking him why Dunne had been there on Saturday. Tony just shrugged, stating the British had asked to take his shift for some reason. He didn’t complain to have a night off, honestly.

“So, listen,” Ariya said, worrying his hands nervously, “I just visited Jack and we started talking about the bar and he mentioned a certain guy you might know: Noam.”

“Oh, yeah, Noam!” he nodded quickly, a smile forming on his lips at the memory of the youngster.

Ariya didn’t say anything, hoping for Tony to talk. He simply kept nodding, then looked back at him rather questioning the annoyance in his glare rather than his own behavior.

“Yes, so, we talked about him a bit and,” he was searching his words not to make the situation too obvious, “Jack said you knew him… but he didn’t say from where, and you know, I’m curious…”

“We met at the gym,” he explained, “I’ve become his coach and well, we became friends. Really sweet guy, a little sassy though, shy too. I actually asked me if he could use my locker room ‘cause us coaches had our own. I said yes, naturally.”

“Oh, so he lives nearby?” he dared, watching his breathing not to betray his growing excitement.

“Let me guess,” Drew interfered, having observed their conversation going back and forth in silence, “You met him at the bar, gave him your number and he didn’t call you back?”

Ariya knew how sharp his best friend could be sometimes. At least, he often could guess only half the truth. Still, he felt caught and try to stutter an excuse that never left his mind. Sometimes, people would ignore him after the deed done. He always felt insulted, as if what he had to offer wasn’t enough. Here, it was different.

“Let’s say that he left the bar, but I didn’t.”

Tony and Drew shared a look, intrigued. Most people knew the Daivari family and wouldn’t even dare to dream spending a night at the youngest’s home. The _Final Cut_ wasn’t for the prudes anyway.

“Were you that annoying?” Tony joked.

“No, we were having a pretty good time. We talked a lot and then,” he leaned closer to Tony, a bit flustered, “He asked if I wanted a… Ben Jerry.”

“A dog?”

“A fellatio, Tony,” Drew explained, looking at his glass with a smile.

Nese paused an instant, probably to connect the dots. Ben Jerry, B.J., B.J., blowjob. He finally nodded as the two other men sighed.

“Uh, yeah, that’s weird,” he agreed, “Listen, I know his address, but he’s kinda, like not shy but… Be nice with him?”

“You know me,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s why I said that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ariya was listening closely to his GPS on his phone. He never wandered the streets he was currently driving on. The urban and lively neighborhoods had turned into dilapidated buildings of broken windows and hopes. He didn't feel safe out there, not with the sole parents looking back at him with their myriad of children tugging at their arms.

“You've arrived at destination.”

Ariya almost doubted the machine. He was to the left of a deserted garage shop with the corpse of a rusty car waiting inside. Above it, were surely apartments. On one of the windows was a weathered sign written for sale. Ariya parked on the other side of the road. He cut off the motor, but didn't exit his car. It wasn't his kind of quarters, he didn't dare to leave.

He could've been mugged. He could've been kidnapped for ransom. Worst of all, his car could've been stolen. He stayed sat on his leather seat, phone in his hands. He kept ogling at the apartments above. Maybe he'd see him at the window. Maybe he didn't have to leave his car alone. No soul seemed to live there, however, and he had stayed wondering what to do for far too long.

He sighed and opened the door. He darted at the street, lifeless. That reassured him somehow, letting him locked his car. The beeping resonated on the empty street. He crossed the road, his heartbeats increasingly getting faster. He tried to remember Noam’s features, but realized that in the darkness of the bar and now his inaccurate memory, he was just a voice, an air, a form. He doubted he remembered much more of him.

He found the door of the building by the side of the garage. He had expected to see Noam written next to one of the bells. Of course, it wasn't. He looked at each name, biting his lips thoughtfully. He wondered which name would fit him better.

_Samson, Dar, Ambrose…_

The last name reminded him of someone. His mind drifted, thinking of the person it might have been, where he had heard of him before. Yes, he was a he, right? Was it Drew? No… Jack. Jack talked about a certain Ambrose. Yes, he was a hunting friend of Brian… if cryptid hunting was a thing, at least.

“Looking for something, Mr. Daivari?”

He turned around to see the arrogant air of the _Final Cut_ ’s guard. Pete looked at him up and down, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He never saw him outside the bar. He seemed even more irritating in broad daylight with his cheap but fitting suit. He had to admit that his brown scarf was looking good with his clothing. He was an ignorant brat with a sense of fashion.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “Do you live here?”

“Maybe,” he replied, mimicking his gesture and tone.

Oh, so they'd be playing that game, huh?  Ariya really didn't want to.

“Do you know Noam? You know where he lives?” he asked, nodding at the building.

“Maybe,” he repeated, “What do you want from him?”

“It's… personal,” he coughed, uneasiness to share anything with that man.

“Oh, you're that kind of friends, huh?” he said, his tone more gently suddenly, “Name's Dar. Flat on the bottom right.”

Ariya mumbled a thank, wondering the meaning of his inquisition. He was about to ask him, questioning the kind of people Noam surrounded himself with. He had thought of friends with benefits at first. His mind then drifted to his age and social status, the way he paid his debts.

“By the way,” Pete said suddenly, “Bells are all broken. Door as well. Just enter and knock at number 2.”

Ariya nodded and watched him walk away. His eyes averted his car, still parked and untouched. He thought of going back, just to reassure himself, but decided against it. It'd be safe. He was probably just slowing down the moment he'd meet Noam, now that he thought he knew something about him he'd prefer never knowing.

Ariya felt uneasy in the building. The wallpapers were shredded and withered. The carpet, old and sticky. Most lamps were already dead. The surviving ones were blinking on and off, on their last legs. The decrepit hallway was eerily silent, but for faint music coming from upstairs. Someone quite talented was playing the guitar. He approached the wooden door on which a metallic two had been fixed. He exhaled one last time before knocking. Then, he waited.

His heart was throbbing in his heart. His fingers were shaking when he hid them in the front pocket of his pants. The hallway was too small. The air was stiffening. He gulped hard, his throat too dry suddenly. The worst was his mind, blank and numb, unable to form any coherent thought. He had had this conversation countless times in his head, but all his rehearsals had been forgotten when his knuckles touched the door. He tried to come with something, anything, but not a single sentence formed in his mind. He drifted between scattered ideas and faded memories. Words were popping, a mix of English and Farsi. He could still go back and forget about it all, humiliated or not.

The door eventually opened and Ariya froze. He felt like his heart and mind were about to explode. Maybe he didn't come just to set the records straight that no one disrespected a Daivari. Maybe he came for something more. Noam’s head poked and every single memory he had of the both of them at the bar fired up at once. Their conversation, their proximity… his lips so close to his.

“Hum, hi?” he said, quite confused, “Can I help you?”

He had missed his accent. Hearing its thickness and roughness was almost enough to soothe the brutal sting he felt not to be remembered. He coughed, urging his brain to find his words.

“Y-yeah, yeah, hi,” he stuttered, looking behind him instead of in his eyes, “I'm Ariya, you remember? We met at the bar and…”

“You've followed me here?”

Half of his body was peeping through the door, that seemed ready to close in Ariya's face at any moment.

“No! No, not really,” he jumped, stopping short of touching him, “I'm a friend of Tony and, well… You've ditched me the other day.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry about that,” he said quickly, smiling awkwardly, “Tell Tony I said hi, alright?”

He was about to close the door, to disappear from Daivari’s life or so he thought. Panicked crept into his mind. His hand reached forwards, landing on Noam’s fingers.

“Wait!”

Noam looked up, distrustful. He pulled his hand off, as if burned. It hung in the air, hand half-closed. His eyes narrowed, but he let him talk.

“You know I'm a Daivari, right?” he asked with pride.

“I know. I just don't give a fuck about it,” he rolled his eyes, leaning on the door frame.

Ariya felt his pride being attacked. His mouth stayed agape a second, before sighing. He didn't expect the conversation to turn that way. It was irritating him slowly.

“I'm still waiting for that blowjob, you know?”

“Thought it wasn't your style,” he reminded it, his tongue poking out to lick his lips slowly, “I’m not in the mood anyway.”

Ariya chuckled at that. He looked back at Noam fondly, wondering when his heart started to ache so sweetly. The younger man smiled back.

“Did you come just to tell me that?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “I was mad when you left, and I think you owe me one. I waited for you, you know. A long time.”

It was a lie, but maybe he'd regret his actions that way. Noam did pout, thoughtful. He looked down an instant, before sighing.

“Alright, alright. But get inside! Not gonna blow you in the middle of the corridor!”

“Wait, no! No!” he declared, “Actually…”

He didn't know what he was saying anymore. He didn't remember why he came anymore. He could've entered and had a good time, probably put him into more than his knees as well. He had spoken by instinct, cursing himself for doing so. He was talking to a man willing to blow him on a whim. A pretty and luscious man having that kind of friends. Still…

“I'd rather have you pay me back by accepting a…” he tried to stop himself, but his eyes met Noam's, dark and profound, “A date. You've been stuck in my head ever since we met. I want to know you better.”

Noam stayed dumb a moment. He blinked several times, eyes lost into Ariya's. Maybe he was doubting his words, waiting for the prank to be revealed. There wasn't any. Daivari genuinely felt something just by facing him. He liked his attitude, but seeing him slightly venerable at this minute was mesmerizing as well. Noam seemed embarrassed, his eyes leaving Ariya's.

“I’m flattered, but…” he sighed, and Ariya felt a dark void forming in his soul, “I’m not… You know… it's…”

“Please?” he heard himself almost begging, too desperate for his own good.

“Probably won't be able to make it anyway,” he said quickly, avoiding his gaze, “I… Work, got a lot of work to do.”

“What kind of work, exactly?”

Noam looked lost and almost afraid suddenly. He bowed his head, cheeks flustered. Ariya already guessed, now he knew.

“I'll pay you,” he said in a slightly pained tone, “I swear.”

“That’s not…”

Ariya shushed him. He took his wallet out, found a bill of a hundred dollars and tended it to him.

“See? Give me a price, I'll pay it.”

Noam contemplated the bill a second, then looked back at him with wide eyes. He might not have understood what being a Daivari meant. He took the money, felt the paper with his fingers and raised it towards the dim light in awe.

“Double it and I’m in,” he finally said, making Ariya jolt of glee, and tried to give him the bill back.

“Keep it,” he ordered, before stepping closer.

His hands gripped his gray T-shirt to pull close. Their open mouths met in a sloppy kiss that turned more sensual as Noam acknowledged what was happening. Their lips moved on the other's. Their tongues danced and swirled. The smaller man moaned, tugging at the collar of his Gucci shirt. He tilted his head. The kiss became more pressing, more feverish. Ariya was kissing back, devouring his lips as if he had never tasted anything sweeter before. Their breath picked up, shaking with want. Daivari was the one to pull apart, feeling the heat of his face as he wiped his mouth.

“Saturday at seven,” he said in a husky tone, “I'll come and pick you here.”

He left under Noam’s hazy eyes. The younger man told him not to come too early, that wasn't his style. It made Ariya sneered, doing his best not to look back and contemplate him again, maybe go for another kiss and close the door behind them for the day.


	4. Chapter 4

Noam had been waiting the end of the week anxiously. He thought he still had time, that he'd only worry later on. It wasn't a big deal anyway. Two-hundred bucks to hang up with some rich dude for a couple of hours. He had looked him up, realized he was indeed Ariya Daivari, youngest of the Daivari clan. A family that made a fortune on oil back in Iran before founding an enterprise on micro technologies. That guy was real, and it scared him almost.

He didn't know what to expect of that date. He imagined a cinema, maybe a stroll somewhere. He hoped for a simple Netflix and Chill, but doubted it was an activity for rich people. As the hours passed, he realized he was getting nervous. Ariya would probably ask for him to follow him home again, pressure him with money that he desperately needed. Hence why he accepted the date in the first place.

He had asked Tony about Daivari to reassure himself, or prove he had a reason to worry. Nese seemed to really like the guy that he met via Drew. He ad hexplained several stories involving the both of them and either cheap beer or expensive whiskey.

“He's really awesome,” he had ended up with, “He bit too loud and proud, but that's not an issue for you.”

He was right. Noam liked the way he spoke and acted. He was really attractive as well, and not only because he wore classy suits and golden jewelry. He was apprehensive at first, having had bad experiences with Iranian folk back in Israel, but Ariya was chill about it, curious even. He still remembered part of his Farsi lesson. He still knew how to call someone an asshole, that was good enough for him.

Pete had come to see him the day after Ariya left. They traveled to this country together. It was luck, destiny almost, and Noam had smiled thinking back at their meeting more times than he can remember. Dunne was a bit harsh at times, but also the first person he ever trusted and saw as a friend. He could've found a better place to live in than on Creeper Street, but he decided to remain close to Noam. Pete used to work where he still did, at the hotel at the corner of the road. They would work same shifts, and when they didn't, Pete would wait to walk him home. Now that he was at the _Final Cut_ , he always drove him back to his building after closure. Last Saturday, he actually sneaked out of his post when Noam, confused and slightly panicked, wanted to leave.

“What did he want?” Pete had asked him, drinking his tea with his feet propped up on the table, “He looked like trouble.”

“Look who’s talking,” he had joked, still puzzled about his encounter, “Ditched him at the bar. He said I owed him a date.”

“Oh, thought he came for support,” he had confessed, pouting, “Should've thought that if a Daivari was going through what you're going through, they wouldn't stop talking about it. I told if to walk in. Sorry.”

“No, I’m actually glad we met again.”

He had felt a smile forming on his face, and Pete had seen it as well. He had raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Noam had simply shrugged, blushing. He was almost eagerly looking forward to know more about Daivari.

Noam had been stuck in front of the mirror for too long for his own good. He didn't want to dress too well, try too hard. He knew that whatever he'd be wearing would look petty and cheap next to Ariya. He decided for an ample T-shirt and jacket with a pair of jeans. He liked to be dressed like this, and he'd rather be comfortable than try and fail to impress. His eyes drifted from his reflection to the nail polish sitting on the sink. Galaxy in Purple, a color he found hypnotizing and very aesthetic.

_Should he? Yes. No. Maybe so? Oh, fuck it!_

He was on his sofa, watching one of the three only channels available, when he heard knocking on his door. His heart jolted in his chest. His lungs and throat felt constricted suddenly. He switched off the TV, took a deep breath, and went to open the door. He knew who was waiting on the other side, but the sight of Ariya still nearly took his breath away. He was wearing an exquisite navy suit with a white shirt. Noam recognized the print pattern. The whole outfit was probably from Versace. He gulped at the thought, feeling awkward in his clothes.

“Evening,” Daivari said with a smile that made Noam melted on the spot.

He tended a box -that Noam identified later- of chocolates. He never heard of the brand before. He guessed he had it imported from whatever country of his choosing. He tried to look unimpressed, but pressure was building up. Maybe Ariya was too much for him, with or without money involved.

“You were so eager for that date. I didn’t expect you to be late,” he commented, putting the box away as carefully as if it held crystal eggs.

He had to say something to calm his racing heart, but Ariya had been delayed by barely five minutes. He bit his tongue the second he had spoken. He didn’t want to sound mean, and maybe he had. The other man just chuckled, flustering Noam even more. His smile was a sight to die for.

“I’m sorry,” he said, dreamy eyes locked on his, “I had to make sure everything was perfect. Shall we?”

He offered his hand with a lopsided smile. Noam felt a shiver ran down his spine. So, that was actually happening. He was going on a dream date with one of the richest men in town. The thought made his head tingle. He felt self-conscious suddenly, in his cheap clothes. He felt even weirder than usual, physically speaking.

“I… should go change,” he mumbled, too impressed by the man facing him.

“Why? I really like it,” he complimented, looking him up and down, “It suits you fine.”

It reassured Noam who took his hand after locking his door. Ariya noticed his painted nails, and the Scottish feared his comments for a second. Daivari only smiled wider, giving him another praise about his appearance. Even in the car, driving to parts of town Noam had only heard of, his hand wouldn’t stop touching and caressing his.

Noam didn't know where he was. They arrived at something he could only describe as a castle. It was a stone structure with a tower and pointed roofs. The light was beaming from the barred windows. It felt surreal, magic, but also intimidating. He couldn't dare to guess the important people coming and going into this… restaurant. Now he knew it was a restaurant kind of date.

“You're alright?” Ariya asked him, getting closer to the entrance where a boy was waiting for them.

Noam realized he had gripped Ariya's hand, crushing his fingers. He let go abruptly, looking anywhere but back at him. The smell of leather and cologne was oppressing suddenly. The gold ring and watch were blinding. He didn't belong here. He could already feel the condescending glare of the other customers on him. He felt sick, just to think of their hushed whispers about his appearance. He wanted to crawl out of his skin and hide back to his apartment. He wasn't Daivari material. He wasn't made for this fanciness, paid for or not.

“Noam? Hey…”

Ariya’s hand found its way back on his, squeezing it reassuringly. They had stopped in front of the castle. Noam knew they had to get out, but he was frozen in place. He couldn't talk, barely think and those thoughts were making him nauseous. He couldn't face Ariya who was probably getting mad at this instant. He had paid him for a date, and all he had received was a mess stuck in their own head.

“Stay here. I'll be back,” he heard above the twisted thoughts in his mind.

He knew that Ariya had left the car and closed the door behind him. The loneliness actually soothed his fears a little. He dared to look up and inspected his surroundings. People were looking at the car with either concern or assumption. He wanted to sink into his seat and disappear from their sight. He looked away and spotted Ariya entering the castle. He was afraid he had been left here and Ariya had gone to the date alone. It was a stupid thought, but his head never worked right under pressure. The minutes passed atrociously slow until he came back with a peaceful smile on his lips.

“Alright, all settled,” he said, his voice sweet and soft, bleeding care, “Let's go!”

Noam wanted to say something, a mix between a thank and an apology, but his throat felt too dry and no sound could come out of his mouth. He still couldn't face Ariya, blush creeping on his cheeks, shame creeping on his mind. He hoped he would stop the car and let him go. He felt like he was suffocating inside. He managed to slide the window down, awaiting Ariya's complain, which never came.

They passed streets until Noam could recognize the quarters. They were going downtown, but not in the direction of his home. He was about to say something, but as he turned around his eyes met Ariya's. They were focused, narrowed, secret. He preferred not to speak, feeling he'd say something wrong. They stopped near the bar. Ariya switched the engine down but didn't move. Noam was looking at his hands, uneasy.

“So, pizza or burger?” he said, taking his phone out still without looking at Noam.

“What?”

“We're gonna have this date,” he explained, finally looking at him with confidence, “So choose: pizza or burger.”

“P-pizza, I guess,” he shrugged.

“We're going to my place, alright?”

Ariya and Noam entered into the pizzeria, ordered and took the boxes in a tensed silence. The youngest could feel the other’s gaze locked onto him. He wanted to tell him off, to sassy his way out of this situation, but he couldn’t. He always tried to look tough and confident, but what Ariya had to offer still sounded like too much. They had to talk nonetheless. He had to apologize, but only after what remained of their date.

“Alright, home sweet home.”

Ariya had driven to McMahon Avenue, a street Noam had only heard about like a myth. He had gasped at the three-story houses white as snow with their hectare wide gardens. It had been too dark to see much more, but the sight was impressive enough for him. They had arrived at the end of the road, at an apartment building the exact opposite of the Scottish’s. Wide windows and modern structure. Video surveillance and private garages. He gulped, feeling like he didn’t belong once again. He realized he hadn’t moved when Ariya opened his door, tending a hand that he took shakily.

“Ariya,” he called in the elevator, holding the pizza with both hands, “Listen. I’m sorry…”

“Yeah, you should be,” he commented back before stroking his hair, “Next time, you tell me if you’re not feeling it, alright?”

He nodded, looking back at him with this feeling of guilt washing out. His hand traveled from the top of his head to his jaw, petting. His fingers rested on it gently. He wasn’t mad, his fondness-filled eyes were locked on his.

“Good,” he breathed, smiling.

The memory of their last kiss flashed before Noam’s eyes. He could remember the texture of his lips, the taste of their passion. Knowing that he had worried Ariya made him wish he could feel them again, right now. His tongue ran over his bottom lip. His breathing picked up. He closed the space between them, lifting his chin up. Ariya’s hand was still on his cheek, his eyes still drowning into his. He closed his eyes, ready to feel his stomach twinge again, but the elevator stopped. He looked to his left, thinking the moment had been broken.

“Oh, fuck that,” he heard Ariya mumbled as he grabbed the collar of his jacket.

Their lips crashed, causing Noam to jump at the suddenness and the strength of the kiss. Ariya lapped at his lips, pleading to enter his mouth. The youngest grappled the pant of his suit, the pizzas precariously held in one hand. They pressed their bodies together, so close they could feel the other’s warmth. He whimpered into the kiss, his teeth scraping Ariya’s bottom lip. He only kissed back harder, a hand pushing the back of his head. His other slid under his T-shirt, electrifying his bare skin. He traveled upwards, caressing his spine from his lower back to his flank. Noam stepped back before he could go any further, saliva still linking their lips together. He wiped his mouth before speaking.

“We might be getting hot, but the food’s getting cold.”

Ariya's duplex was sumptuous. Shining white and modern, with every electric functionality turning on remotely. There were Persian rugs on the floor and complex art on the wall. Noam was quite impressed, looking around and feeling afraid even to put his feet on the floor. He heard Ariya chuckled behind him, his hands still on his body as if fearing he'd run away.

They ate in the living room, watching some weird TV show on Comedy Central. Ariya kept his eyes on Noam either by love or fear he'd dirty the couch or rug. They talked a bit about what had happened. Ariya had cancelled the reservation and chose the pizzeria he always went to with Nese and Gulak. He sometimes forgot how different his lifestyle might be. He didn't hold any grudge against Noam and was actually glad to just relax at his sides in front of the TV with pizza grease running down his fingers. Noam regained his true self, feigning more than once to drop his pizza, only for Ariya to yell in terror.

They wiped their hands and mouths after gulping the last piece, and just rested on the sofa. Ariya put an arm on the edge of the couch that Noam took to wrap around his shoulders. They both chuckled at that. He couldn't understand why they felt this connection, how easy it was to just act as he pleased around him. Ariya's hand was rubbing his shoulder at first, before rising to his cheek again. He forced him to face him, to drown into the fondness in his eyes again. He kissed his palm almost on instinct, watching the want growing into Ariya's pupils. He kissed his thumb, letting it run on his bottom lip before lapping it sensually. He stopped mid-length, the fake taste of citrus irritating his mouth.

“Ugh, nasty,” he commented, shaking his head.

Ariya sneered, rolling his eyes. He closed their distance, soothing the bad taste in his mouth with his tongue. Noam melted into the kiss, cupping his jaw to bring him closer. They tugged at their hair and clothes, altering between open-mouth kissing and bottom-lip nibbling. Ariya laid him on the couch, towering over him with a carnivorous smile. He was still sitting when he savored his lips again, moaning quietly at his taste.

His jacket had been discarded on the floor. Ariya had opened his own shirt, revealing his tanned torso. His fingers gripped the hem of Noam's shirt, knuckles brushing his flustered skin, and the younger man froze. He chased Ariya's hands abruptly, straightening up to put distance between them. Ariya looked concerned, his hand stretched without daring to touch him. Noam bit his lip and looked down, feeling his warm face reddening up.

“I need to tell you something…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I feel much better and started writing again :D  
> Oh, and this fic is now explicit, but only for this chapter and maybe another one later...  
> Enjoy!!!

“I need to tell you something…”

Noam's heart was throbbing in his temples. His throat felt dry, his mind numb. He looked for his words a moment, opening his mouth only to let out a pained whimper. His gaze altered between the empty pizza boxes and Ariya's face. The other man was hanging from his lips, eyes bulging out with worry. He didn't dare to speak before Noam, but seemed to grow more tensed at the second. His hand had found his wrist, holding onto it as if it was a lifesaver and they were in a sea of doubts and untold truths.

“Listen, there's something about me…” he started.

He pulled his hand away, letting Ariya drown in his own incomprehension and fear. He petted his own hair, looking down, closing his eyes, even. He pretended Ariya wasn't here, that the words he spoke were for him alone. It always seemed easier to say it that way.

“I'm a trans man… and still transitioning.”

Then, the silence, oppressing, filling the void with unspoken assumptions. He was focusing on a small stain on his jeans, waiting for Ariya to say a word, anything from doubt to anger. That always was the worst part; the wait, and the silence, impossible to decipher the other’s emotions. Willing to leave, but frozen in place.

“Oh,” was the only thing that escaped his mouth.

A single word for a million different meanings and feelings, but Noam decided it as a monosyllable of curiosity, but uneasiness. He knew what'd come next. The apology, the awkward smile the ‘I’m saying I'll call you back but we both know it won't happen’. He rose to his feet abruptly.

“I… I should just go now, really.”

He was about to circle the sofa, get his jacket, and disappear from Daivari's life, but he couldn't step forward, couldn't vanish. Ariya had grabbed his hand, looking up at him with a mixed expression of apprehension and care.

“Wait,” he asked, his demand a mere whisper in the vastness of his place and the emptiness of their silence, “I- hum, I didn't know, a-and that's a first, to be honest. I'm not gonna lie to you, this is new and a bit terrifying be-because I don't want to fuck it all up. But, I mean, even if it takes a few awkward moments and talks, I'm not gonna let you go off my life like this.”

“You mean…” Noam could barely talk, in awe of his speech. He walked to face him, surveying his eyes for any lie.

“You’re gorgeous and I love that bratty-ass attitude of yours,” he said with a smile, “So if that means I'll sound like a total jerk dumber than Nese at times cause I'll have no idea what I'm doing, so be it.”

“That's mean to Tony,” Noam pinpointed.

“Does he… know, by the way?”

“Well, Drew knows,” he trailed off, pursing his lips, “But Tony… He still thinks I'm just shy for fearing to change in the all-men locker room.”

“You, shy?” he rose an eyebrow, remembering a certain someone eager to blow him off in public, “And I'm mean for saying he's dumb?”

“Alright, yeah. He may be a tad slow.”

Their eyes met and they both sneered, silently judging the other and themselves for talking behind their friend’s back. They could be jerks at times, but jerks in love nonetheless. Ariya tugged at his wrist to pull Noam closer. He climbed on the sofa, straddling his lap carefully. There was still a hint of distrust in his eyes, but Ariya barely cared about that.

“So, you're sure about that?” Noam asked, tilting his head to meet his eyes, hands wrapped behind his nape, “About us?”

Ariya nodded, fondness finding his way back into his eyes. His hands rested on his lower back.

“And you're not thinking I'm… exotic or…”

“Hell no,” Ariya said quickly, making Noam jump at his intensity, “I’ve already been called that. It's… weird.”

They both nodded in agreement, eyes narrowing and faces getting closer. Noam was the first to chuckle at their common gesture. Ariya was the first to touch his lips, much gentler than before. The youngest pressed their torso together, his shoulders against the sofa. He tilted his head further, scraping his bottom lip as he deepened the kiss. Ariya's hands traveled to his ass, finding their ways into his back pocket. He pulled him closer, his hips rolling slightly.

Noam ground back, moaning into the kiss. Daivari took it as a chance to enter his mouth, caressing his tongue with his. The Scottish could still taste salmon on his tongue, the pizza he had eaten. His hands left his shoulders to slide under his open shirt, brushing his skin with his fingertips. The simple touch made Ariya shiver, squeezing his butt as his hips bucked strongly.

Noam smiled into their kiss, feeling himself getting wet with Ariya's bulge pressing against him. His nails trailed against his skin, stopping when they met with his nipples. He played with his erect buds, knowing how good Ariya felt when one of his hand pushed the top of his head towards him. He left his mouth to kiss his neck, nibbling harder when another wave of pleasure crashed over him with only his nipples. Noam’s head rolled back, his nails digging into his flesh.

Ariya's hands came playing with his zipper and buttons of his jeans, undoing them with shaking fingers. Noam straightened up, looking down at his hands, his heart beating faster as his boxers were revealed. He was waiting for Ariya's reaction with apprehension as his fingers kept brushing his groin. The other stopped and looked into his eyes.

“I… can do that, right?” he asked hesitantly, “You want that, huh?”

Noam nodded eagerly, his body a bit too wobbly for him to trust his voice. His hips rocked against him, biting his lips sensually. His own hands reached Ariya's pants, hearing him groan at the touch.

“Good,” he breathed in his ear, “Cause I just can't wait to fill your hole,” he marked a pause, “Holes? Hole?”

Noam looked back at Ariya suddenly. He opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say to that. He laughed uneasily, his hands back on his shoulders.

“What?” Ariya asked, “Don't make it awkward!”

“How am I making it awkward? You're the one doing that!”

“I’m just asking a question,” he pouted, hands frozen on the waistband of his jeans, “And you're looking at me weirdly.”

Noam rolled his eyes dramatically. He took one of his hand and slid it inside his pants. He probably could feel the protuberance of his clit, his wetness staining his underwear. Ariya was shocked an instant, before smiling deviously and rubbing his fingers against him. Noam moaned, but kept his ideas straight.

“Just dirty talk to me in Farsi next time,” he shrugged, rolling his hips, “You'll sound smarter.”

“Go choke on a dick,” he yelled back, pressing his middle finger against his clothed hole.

“Don't have to ask me twice,” he sneered, kissing his torso and getting on his knees on the Persian rug.

He pecked his thighs through his suit pants. He could feel Ariya's glare burning his cheeks, his hand tugging his hair. He looked up to see the lust in his eyes, the shivers running through his body as sparks of want were enlightening his core. He traveled to his groin, mouthing the bulge through the layers of clothes. Noam's hands rested on his thighs, caressing subtly to hear him groan. Ariya's other hand landed on Noam's, intertwining their fingers in a romantic manner. That made the Scottish smiled as he pulled his pants down to reveal his twitching cock. Noam trailed a finger alongside his member, hearing Ariya hiss and seeing his hips jolt.

“Eager, huh?” he teased, brushing his upper lip on the glans.

“I've been waiting for -ugh- for quite some time,” he replied, his hand squeezing Noam's.

“Could've sucked you back there, at the bar.”

“But we wouldn't be here tonight,” he commented, thoughtfully.

“No, we wouldn't.”

He didn't want those thoughts to slither their way into their brains and swallowed Ariya. He grunted, gripping his hair tighter and throwing back his head. Noam took his entire length easily, tears pearling in the corners of his eyes as the tip hit his throat. He stayed a few seconds, enjoying Ariya's rambled praises, before bobbing languorously. He stilled when Ariya grabbed his head with both hands, guiding his mouth as he wanted. Noam just opened wide, his tongue rubbing against the underside. He knew when to breathe and how to make the dirtiest sounds possible. He could feel Ariya's body tensed, his groans turning louder. He withdrew rapidly, earning a distressed complaint.

“Fuck me,” he ordered, voice raw and broken after that his mouth had been used in such a rough way, “Now.”

He took his own pants off quickly, looking in his pockets, before straddling his lap. His eyes never left Ariya’s, who did look down a few times, as he rolled the condom down his dick. He could tell he was apprehensive, but really excited. He forced Noam to bow and captured his lips feverishly. Their teeth hit in the encounter. Their tongues swirled savagely, making them moan. Noam's wetness was rubbing against Ariya whose hands gripped his ass strongly. He was trying to push him down, to enter him and quench his burning desire. Noam finally sat on his cock, shivering at the feel of being filled again.

“Fuck,” he purred, propping himself up and down and poking his tongue out, “Been so long.”

“Yeah, how long?” he asked, and Noam knew he just wanted to hear his hoarse voice, his thick accent, his quiet moans.

“Like, hmmm, two… two weeks.”

“That's not long.”

“It is when you're fuck- fucking horny all the damn time!” he stuttered in between whimpers of bliss.

“I can see that,” he chuckled, thumb rubbing his clit, making him jump and whimper, “And who was the lucky person?”

“P- oh fuck, Pete,” he opened an eye, seeing jealousy building in his eyes, and smiled cockily, “Bent me over in the restroom of the bar. F- ugh- Fucked me deep and hard til I couldn't move. Picked me -oh fuck, right there- right up after his shift and fin- f- fingered me in his car before walking me home and fucking me again on the couch.”

“You're quite the little slut, huh?”

“And I still wanted more,” he confessed, nails digging his shoulders.

“Don't worry, baby,” he reassured, then said in Farsi, _“I'll keep making love to you until you're begging me to stop.”_

“You're not -oh fff- jealous about Pete, huh?” he asked, biting his lip as he felt his body melt under the pleasure, “It… it sounded bit aah-angry.”

“Nah, I'll just make sure you don't want to go for him ever again.”

“You really think you're that talented, old man?” he stopped moving, defying Ariya.

“Try me.”

Noam chuckled at his words, but didn't expect him to fasten the pace, impaling him deep and hard. Noam sobbed, feeling his legs quiver. His thumb was still circling his clit, jerking it quickly. The orgasm hit so hard the world swayed before his eyes. He felt himself twitch and tighten around Ariya. He took a small breather, and asked for more.

The opening of _Morning Glory_ suddenly rang in Noam's ears. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering where he was. Everything seemed white and smelled fresh and clean. He noticed a warm body at his sides, their arm wrapped around his uncovered waist. The memory came slowly back into his mind. Their date, their kiss, their shag. They were still on the sofa where Noam had fallen asleep and Ariya must have followed him quickly after. He turned around to face him, slowly awakening as well.

“What's that?” he mumbled sleepily, pulling Noam closer and kissing his forehead.

“My alarm. I have to go to work,” he informed, stretching his limbs and yawing in his chest.

He tried to leave the couch, but Ariya only hugged him closer, groaning in disagreement. Noam tried to pull away, but he was stronger than him. He ended up sighing, but the other man didn't acknowledge his annoyance, just closed his eyes and drifted to sleep again.

“I really need to go, Ariya!”

“No, you don't,” he said, opening an eye, “You don't need a job anymore. I'm here.”

“I'm not gonna depend on you,” he replied, his expression serious, “Please?”

“Don’t you work… at nighttime or something?” he could feel Ariya’s embrace getting stronger. He really didn’t want him to go.

“No, why would I?”

“Wait,” his hold softened as he opened an eye, “What kind of job are we talking about?”

“What kind of job do you think I do?” he retorted, trying to understand where Ariya was going.

“Well, I-I mean…” he stuttered, uneasy, “You’re pretty and horny, and- and you take money for…”

“You offered me money!” he snapped back, wiggling out of his hold in vain, “I’m a receptionist, dumbass.”

“Oh…”

There was a long pause. Noam twitched with apprehension, feeling the seconds passing by too fast. He had thirty minutes to take a shower, get dressed, eat something and go to the hotel at the corner of Crippler Street and 8th Avenue. He didn't even know how far he was from home. He pushed Ariya more strongly, anxiety settling in. The Iranian-American finally let go of him, pouting.

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, picking his clothes up.

“You're not wearing them again, right?” Ariya pinpointed with disgust, “I’ll lend you something and show you the bathroom. I need a shower as well anyway,” he straightened up and looked at Noam, biting his lip uneasily, “No shower together?”

“I prefer not to,” he confessed, and relaxed when Ariya shrugged.

Ariya dressed up in his bedroom while Noam took his shower. He guessed he wanted to drive him to work, then clean himself up afterwards. Or maybe it was a thing of his to reek of sex during the day. Ariya had given him a sleeveless shirt and jeans, both slightly too wide for him. He frowned as he took a look at himself in the mirror.

“Ariya,” he called, “Do you have a jacket I can wear?”

The other man entered the bathroom after knocking, holding a white baseball jacket with flowers printed on the sleeves. He tended it to Noam, wondering why he had asked for it.

“Binder is showing,” he sighed, turning around for Ariya to see.

“Did you sleep with it?”

Noam shrugged, unable to answer without feeling a bit stupid and guilty. He didn't trust Ariya to take it off, fearing to feel insecure.

“Isn't that… dangerous? Painful at least?”

Another shrug.

“Please take it off next time. I can sleep elsewhere if you really need to.”

Noam nodded thoughtfully, admiring himself wearing Ariya's jacket, too big for him and smelling like the other man. He smiled, knowing people would notice as well. He kissed Ariya as he passed him by, ready to go to work. Ariya grabbed his arm to stop him, a bittersweet smile on his lips. In his other hand, he was holding plenty of twenty-dollar bills, tending them to Noam. The Scottish gave him another kiss, lowering his hand.

“I want a lover,” he whispered on his lips, “Not a sugar daddy.”


	6. Chapter 6

During the next month, Ariya and Noam learned to discover one another. They revealed their weaknesses and strengths, they opened up their fears and wishes. They couldn't really tell if they were dating or if they were just fooling around, but they didn't really care. Their relationship was easy and healthy. Noam could easily take the edge off with him and Ariya realized that he needed the Scottish. He couldn't tell the last time he woke up twice with the same person in his arms. He guessed it was Jack, about a decade ago. He always tried to shake the thought off, not to question himself.

Questioning Noam, that he did. Sure, he had dated men. Sure, he had dated women, but never someone transitioning from one gender to another. There were words he had feared to use, acts he had feared to do, and the Internet could only give so many answers. Sometimes, his questions made sense and Noam would tell him that pretty and cute weren't praises he was fond of. Sometimes, he was just dumb, and the Scottish would just roll his eyes and retort something sarcastic with amusement in his eyes.

Another point Ariya had needed adjusting to, was Noam's work schedule. Daivari didn't work, never needed to. He was the diplomat of the enterprise and his only job was to travel the world or meet clients through a screen. If there wasn't a contract to sign, he could just sit back and relax, waiting for a call from his father. He'd spend most of his time hanging with friends and had wished now to spend these moments with Noam.

The Scottish worked in the hotel every day except on Saturdays from eight to four. Daivari had told him money wouldn't be an issue, that he could pay for anything he wanted, that he'd be better off quitting his job and live by his wealth. Noam refused to depend on him. He had explained that half of what he earned was going for future operations. Ariya couldn't pay for it, it was a thing Noam had to do. He realized, however, when the owner of the apartment he rented told him he had paid twice that Daivari was now paying for the roof above his head. They almost fought about that, but Ariya told him he could now save more of his salary for his goals. He had smiled at his reasoning, and had accepted that maybe, just maybe he wasn't entirely wrong.

So, not to be a creep by waiting for Noam’s messages and refrain from his will to go see him at the hotel -and maybe check how easily these old beds creak- he was divided between annoying Jack at home, or Drew at work. He texted them both, Gallagher first, and impatiently waiting for a reply in his kitchen. He kept juggling with his two-thousand-dollar phone, inadvertently letting it fall on the floor a few times. He didn't really care. He changed it every two months by the end of the mouth, and New Year Eve would soon be approaching.

When his phone finally vibrated, he realized he hadn't received the replies he had expected. Drew said he was really busy correcting essays until the end of the week. As for Jack, Brian had replied. It didn't say so, but he knew that Gallagher would never tell him to ‘fuck off’. He always told him they'd see each other next time, ending his promise with a wink. He was about to wonder what he could've done next when Drew texted him again.

**Tone didn't work yesterday. He can hang out. Could talk about Noam.**

He frowned. He still hadn't said anything about him and the Scottish to anyone, mostly because he wasn't even sure they were actually dating yet. He never talked about his love affairs, so he wouldn't either this time.

**Noam?**

**You guys already know something?**

**All of it. Including that ‘breakfast’ in your kitchen...**

Ariya felt his face burning suddenly. Memories flashed in his mind. That lazy Saturday morning. Noam walking around naked except for Ariya's shirt, the odor of sweat and sex still floating around him. He was feigning to ignore Ariya, facing the other way, elbows resting on the counter. He couldn't resist, not with the filth escaping his mouth without looking at him, speaking casually as if he wasn't asking for his cock. He lifted Noam on the counter, head between his legs to pleasure him, then carry him to the sofa and pounded him until they both couldn't think anymore. He wondered how much he had told Tony and Drew. He would've been capable of describing the whole thing with a shrug.

Ariya and Tony met in the ice cream shop on Hemsley Street. It was really expensive, and Ariya knew Tony had proposed the place because he was paying. The treats were delicious and Nese was almost bouncing impatiently in front of the shop. Even when they settled, a bowl for each, he seemed overjoyed. He kept looking at Daivari with a knowing smile, biting his lips before bursting.

“So,” he trailed, feigning to pay some attention to his almond and hazelnut ice cream, “What’s up with your… boyfriend?”

“He's not,” he began, but sighed at the glimmer in Tony's eyes, “It's been three weeks. We're not really dating yet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded falsely, “You eat every day together. You sleep almost every night together. You have cute nicknames.”

“We don't!”

“Babe?” he pointed at him with his spoon, “That's pretty cute.”

“That's just a thing I call everyone,” he shrugged, gulping his treat awkwardly.

“You don't call me that…”

“I can call you babe in you want, babe.”

“Yeah, no. Don't. Anyway, he wears your clothes and well, you have lazy morning sex after blowing him in the kitchen,” he said, maybe a little too loud and Ariya felt his face turn bright red, “I'm not that dumb. I know you're dating.”

 _You said 'blowing', dumbass_. Ariya thought but didn't say anything. Noam should be the one to explain that to him. He wouldn't have the patience anyway.

“Alright,” he confessed, “Maybe we’re…”

“Ariya and Noam, sitting in a-”

He started singing loud, and Ariya kicked his leg under the table to shut him up. His face was burning him, the ice a welcoming sensation on his lips. Tony laughed at his own silliness and kept on bugging Ariya out for the next hour. He really seemed happy for the both of them and repeated they had to go on double dates. Ariya didn't agree, but kept the idea in mind in case.

After that, Ariya decided to go visit Noam at his apartment. He didn't like his quarter too much, but understood the Scottish felt safer at his own place sometimes. He had already tried to talk him into living together, only because his building was almost disgusting to Ariya, but he refused. He took a taxi this time, knowing he would spend more than a moment there. He hoped Noam wouldn't mind seeing him without being told so beforehand.

He did take a long time to open the door after that Ariya had knocked. The suspicion in his eyes turned into joy when he realized who was at the door. He had kept Ariya's jacket and had zipped it all the way up. His smile grew bigger and bigger, pointing to his cheek for Ariya to kiss. He decided to hold his jaw and turn his head, planting a soft kiss on his lips, feeling that they were both melting at the touch.

“What are you doing here?” Noam asked once he had entered.

“Just wanted to see you,” he shrugged, noticing plates piling up in the sink, the same sweater on the chair since he first met him.

“Already missing me,” he joked, sitting on his couch and seemingly unpausing his game.

Ariya had learned that few things were more important than gaming for Noam, and unfortunately, he wasn't one of them. He looked at him jerk his controller, tongue out, for a moment, a serene smile on his lips, before sitting on his sides. They didn't always need steamy sex and grabby hugs, just spending time together was enough for the both of them. Ariya knew he never felt that way in a very long time. He never thought he'd like spending time platonically with someone he was attracted to sexually.

“You wanna try it?” he asked at some point, shifting on the couch to rest his head on his lap. He kept playing, without looking at Ariya.

It was a side-scroller game, the kind that frustrated Daivari until he broke the console. He could've paid it back, but he suspected Noam would be mad at him.

“I don't know the controls,” he used as an excuse, a hand petting his hair, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Want me to show you?”

He paused the game to look up at him. Ariya couldn't think he ever saw a more beautiful man. Even with the bags under his eyes, the badly trimmed beard, the dry spot on his parted lips. He often wanted perfection and only that, but something in Noam seemed above perfection itself. He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe his words, maybe his eyes.

“I'm good,” he refused.

“Your loss, old man,” he retorted, turning his attention back to the screen.

Somehow, with Noam on his laps and the 8-bit theme in the room, Ariya couldn't think of a moment he felt happier, and he knew Noam was delighted to be at his side as well, leaning into his touch without looking at him.

Until one night when they were sharing the Iranian-American’s bed. Ariya was trailing kisses alongside Noam's neck, going down to his shoulders. His back was pressed against his torso, feeling his arousal grow as always when the Scottish was in his arms. However, this time, he couldn't hear his whimpers filled with lust, couldn't feel his hips bucking against his groin. He wasn't pushing him away either. He just wasn't reacting, barely acknowledging the other man caressing his hips and loin.

“Noam? Baby?” he called in his ear, holding him closer, “You’re alright?”

“Hm?” he turned his head to face him, “Y-yeah.”

The smile he showed Ariya was all but genuine. He seemed thoughtful, lost in his own mind. His eyes looked distant, clouded in a veil of sadness. The sight pained Ariya. He felt his heart jolt achingly, his ribcage constrict his lungs. He hugged him tighter, kissing the roots of his hair on his neck, then nuzzled the crook.

“You're sure?” he asked softly, “You can tell me, you know.”

“It’s just that,” he sighed, turning to face him, rubbing his chest nervously, “I don't like December, that's all.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded mindlessly, “Those damn Christmas songs…”

“No, it's…” he bit his lips and looked for his words. Ariya gave him time, caressing his back through his shirt, “Back home, we'd celebrate Hanukkah and…”

“Oh, you need to go back home, huh?” he guessed, clutching his clothing wondering how long they'd be apart.

“Nah. I could, but mom always tells me I killed her daughter and… and I don't want to fight her anymore,” he paused.

He gulped. A sigh escaped his mouth, shaky and anguished, almost a sob. Ariya's grip tightened on his back as Noam’s forehead stuck to his torso. He kissed the top of his head, his hand now stroking his hair. He couldn't know the right words to say and settled for sweet nothings in Farsi. His voice was soft, carrying all his love for the man nuzzling his chest. He spoke in a way he wouldn't speak if he knew he was understood, fearing for his pride somehow.

_You're strong. I care for you. You shouldn't say things that bring you down. I like you more every day._

“I tried celebrating with Pete,” he explained after a while, tone quiet and distant, “And he tried to make it work, but it just didn't. I tried celebrating with Drew, but… I'm happy for Tony and him, but they're so head over heels, I… I just feel lonely with them around.”

“Well, you're not lonely anymore. I don't count for nothing, do I?” he pouted, half-joking, half-hurt, but Noam didn't chuckle back.

It was time to get serious, and Ariya wasn't used to be a counselor, a shoulder to cry on. He kept stroking his hair, kissing his face. In his mind, hundreds of words in both languages were rushing and leaving. He tried to form a sentence, but everything felt dumb, useless, or incorrect. All he knew about Hanukkah was through series and comedies, but still, he got an idea.

“Listen,” he said, facing him and his teary eyes, “I’ve never done it, but I can try to celebrate it with you.”

“You're sure?” he exclaimed, “You won't be disrespectful or anything?”

“My mom always tells me not to disrespect someone's god,” he shrugged, “Plus, I’ve been in Mosques and celebrated Eid al-Adha until I was 21, and my mom never suspected I wasn't into any of that.”

“Oh, I thought you…”

“No. I mean, I believe in Hallah, sure,” he said, “I just think He made those rules for the ones that can't keep straight. I'm just not a devout when my parents aren't looking.”

Noam smiled at that. He kissed his chest, then thought for a moment. Ariya waited for his answer, but frankly, even if he had chosen to tend to himself, he would've said no. He had celebrated Christmas with Gallagher once. That couldn't be much different. He felt Noam nod shyly against his skin and felt sparks light up in his stomach. He couldn't figure out why he was excited, maybe because he was about to make Noam happy. Somehow, that felt like a great achievement.


	7. Chapter 7

Ariya knew Noam would be excited at the thought of spending Hanukkah with him, but he would have never guessed to which extent. He could feel him wiggle under the sheets, awakening him slowly. He kept turning left and right, his legs shaking when he wasn't moving. It was Saturday, and Ariya just wanted to sleep.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, half-awake.

“You're up? Awesome, get up! Get up,” he kept asking, bouncing on the bed like a kid on his birthday, “C’mon!”

Ariya only grunted. He searched for Noam with his eyes closed, before pulling his body against his torso. His arms were wrapped around him, his breath was tickling his hair. The Scottish tried to wiggle out of his grip, but Ariya was bigger and still a dead weight in his last straws of sleep. He kept begging for his lover to get up, his whole body jerking impatiently. He only pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck. He hoped he could soothe his restless state, but gave up after Noam was repeatedly sighing. He begrudgingly opened an eye, only to realize it was still dark outside.

“What time is it?” he wondered against his neck.

“I don't know. Seven? Six, maybe?”

“What? No. Baby, no,” he grunted, tightening his hold.

He hadn't woken up that early since senior year. There was no way for him to do anything this early. If the sun wasn't up in the sky, he had no reason to be up on his feet. He needed sleep, else he'd be grumpy, frustrated and snap at any moment. He didn't want Noam to see him like this. His legs locked one of the Scottish’s between them. He was afraid he'd try to turn around and shake him awake. Noam kept pleading, only stopping to catch his breath.

“Why do you wanna wake up now?” he asked, feeling the haze of sleep slowly fading.

“Hanukkah’s in two days,” he explained, bouncing harder on the mattress, “There's so much I need to show you.”

“That's forty-eight hours,” he said, “Plenty of time.”

Still, he opened his arms and rolled on his back. Noam could go if he wanted to, but there was no way for him to get out of bed before another hour.

“You usually don't mind when it's to drive me to work,” he pinpointed, straightening up.

“Go back to sleep afterwards,” he explained.

Noam emitted a little sound of understanding. Silence fell, then, and Ariya guessed he had gotten out of bed, waiting for him in the living room or the kitchen. He didn't expect to feel a weight crashing against his ribcage. He opened his eyes in stupor, noticing Noam's head.

“Alright,” he said against his skin.

“Thanks, babe.”

“You better, _motek_.”

“Did you just insult my mother?”

“Nah, that's mean sweetie. How you do you say it? In Farsi, I mean.”

Ariya sighed for a moment, which Noam mimicked playfully.

“Did I get the accent right?”

Ariya sighed a moment longer, before chuckling quietly. He shook his head, a smile still on his lips, and stroked the hair tickling his torso. Noam moaned at the touch, and finally stopped moving. Eventually, they both fell asleep for a couple more hours.

Noam was waiting on the sofa, bouncing on it as he waited for Ariya to come back from the bathroom. He had his laptop switched on on his lap, two cups of coffee on the table and biscuits next to him. Crumbs had accumulated on his pants and around him. He was careful to brush them off to the floor before Ariya noticed it. He was too lazy to clean it off and the maid came every day at one anyway. He would've felt bad if she wasn't cleaning the floors each and every time, no matter how dirty they were.

His racing heart thumped harder in his chest when Ariya sat down at his sides. He felt so excited to show him part of his world, part of who he was. It wasn't the first time he'd explain Hanukkah to a non-Jewish, but it was different somehow. He really liked Ariya, maybe even loved him already. This could be the first holiday of many others they would share together. Noam was delighted, but slightly apprehensive as well. He knew Ariya didn't believe in God and he had never talked about that topic with someone believing in Allah. He stuttered a bit at first, hesitant about what to say, how much to explain without being boring.

Ariya was hanging by his lips. He tried to keep in mind all those words he never heard before Shamash, Kislev, Sufganiyah,... They were foreign, but seemed so familiar on Noam's tongue. He kept nodding, though he didn't get everything. He didn't mind, there was time for him to get it through. It was the first Hanukkah of many. He knew it, somehow. He kept focusing on the joyful aura radiating from him. He framed the slight blush on his cheeks, the quick tempo of his voice, the glimmer of excitement in his eyes. One forbidden word kept blinking in his mind: cute. The smile he bore, the joy he felt, it might look a bit childish, but Ariya hoped to see that side of him more than once. He never saw a most wonderful, cheerful man.

“...riya? You're listening?”

Noam had paused his explanations. The laptop had been turned towards him, showing scriptures Ariya had maybe seen twice in his life. It was Hebrew, he was sure of it. His eyes drifted back to the Scottish, seeing he was pouting.

“You're not even listening,” he complained before sighing dramatically.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he shook his head, trying to regain focus, “You were just so cute.”

_Fuck!_ He had spoken without thinking, without a filter. He bit his lips, but the words had already escaped his mouth. Noam narrowed his eyes, but his playful pout stayed in place.

“I'm not… cute,” he said in the same falsely plaintive tone.

“You're excited. That's cute,” Ariya corrected, smirking at the blush spreading on Noam's cheeks.

“It isn't,” he snapped back, shaking his head, “Shut up.”

Ariya couldn't resist but laughed. He leaned to kiss his temple. A sweet and gentle gesture that made his heart jolt, and probably Noam's as well. His arm wrapped around his shoulders, his hand running through his hair. The Scottish was desperately trying to hide his smile, but the spark in his eyes said it all. Cute maybe wasn't as prohibited anymore.

Their faces closed until their lips met. Quick pecks turned into more languorous caresses. Noam put the laptop on the floor to straddle Ariya's lap. He cupped his jaw with both hands, kissing more insistently. He raised his chin to trail kisses on his neck, nibbled at the sensitive skin. Ariya was sneering at his attention. His hands were resting on his lower back, tempted to travel to his ass and squeeze it. He felt Noam's fingers sliding under his shirt, felt him grind against him.

“Didn't you have something to teach me?”

“You made me horny.”

“Well, that's new,” he humored him, pushing his head deeper into his neck, asking for more feverish bites, “Is it because I think you're cute?”

“Cause you're bothering me,” he shrugged, “I’m frustrated, and you'll take care of it.”

Ariya grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up until their faces were at the same level. He leaned close, almost as if for a kiss, but stopped.

“Teach me first,” he asked, their lips touching with each syllable.

“You must be fucking kidding me, right?” he breathed out, his eyes almost dark as lust had settled in.

“I’m just curious,” he explained, the few memories of what Noam had told him coming back fuzzily, “More curious than horny.”

“We fuck, then we keep going.”

“Let's finish that, and then we'll fuck.”

“Promise?”

Ariya nodded, kissing him gently to seal the pact. Noam sighed before picking the laptop from the ground. He turned around to face the other way, but refused to get down from his lap. He seemed comfortably seated, and Ariya really liked their proximity. He kissed his temple on last time as Noam continued his explanations. He was showing him blessings to recite as the candle was lit up. He read them aloud, his finger trailing over the screen. He told Ariya to try them, but the Scottish didn't remark something quite important.

“You know I can't read Hebrew, right?”

Noam looked at him confused, before turning back to the screen. The scriptures were effectively only decipherable for him. There wasn't a romanization of the sounds anywhere. He chuckled awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn't notice.”

“I know. It happens to me all the time as well.”

Ariya knew how it felt to just be able to read another language, another alphabet. He remembered showing texts to Drew or Jack and them just looking back puzzled. His brain didn't even make the difference between his two mother tongues sometimes. Noam excused himself to grab a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote the first few lines with Roman letters. He pronounced each syllable slowly for Ariya to repeat. The sounds were close to Farsi, so it wasn't too hard. He just couldn't understand a word he was saying. It was a religious text anyway, so it wasn't like he’d be insulting anyone.

It was fun to see him write the sounds, cross off the letters he wrote in the other alphabet by mistake. Sometimes, he couldn't write the sound and kept on repeating it, finding an alternative that clearly wasn't the right one. At some point, he just gave up, writing the Hebrew letters if none of the 26 Roman ones worked. That's when Ariya realized their respective languages weren't that different.

“So, the vowels are like, on top of the other letters?” he inquired, and Noam nodded, “In Farsi as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, let me show you.”

Ariya took the pencil and traced Noam's name on the paper. He spelled it out slowly, then turned to the other man that looked at the word like a child looks at a shop vitrine decorated for Christmas. He really wanted to kiss him at the moment, to tell him how much he loved him and his curiosity, how expressive his eyes could be. Noam took the pencil back and tried to imitate what Ariya had just written, badly.

“That's not right,” he confessed, wrinkling his nose.

“It's the exact same!”

“No, I can't read what you wrote. It looks like a three-year-old was using his wrong hand.”

Noam tried again, but Ariya still couldn't make out his name. The “a” was alright, mostly because it was just a mark above the other letters. He kept on trying and got really good at it, but at that point, the Iranian-American just wanted to mess up with him. He liked to annoy him, realizing the Scottish was actually turned on by frustration. He kept a mental note about it, picturing a variety of scenarios to make use of this new discovery.

“And now?” Noam asked, biting his lips as he kept straightening on the couch, rubbing against it slowly.

Ariya only smiled, himself getting aroused by his own actions. He didn't reply, but grabbed his shirt to kiss him forcefully. He pushed Noam on the couch, towering over him with the clear intention to fulfill his promise. Noam responded quickly. His legs wrapped around his waist. His fingers lifted his shirt to rest on his torso. Ariya's hands were on his hips, playing with the waistband of his pajama pants. He kept kissing him, telling him how much he wanted him at this instant.

A phone chimed in the distance, distracting Ariya. He knew it could've been important.  He had to check out of it wasn't his dad or an enterprise. He stood up to get it, but Noam grabbed his wrist, pouting. He kissed his forehead to get away from his grip. He read the message back to the sofa, feeling Noam's eyes on the screen. It was Drew, but it still could've been important.

**New Year Eve at the Cut. You two are joining us?**

“He could've asked me as well,” he said, rolling his eyes.

They both knew Ariya checked his phone more than Noam did. It had become a habit as he could be asked for a meeting at any time of the day or night. It was weird, but Ariya appreciated that the two of them were seen as a pair. He thought about the proposition a moment. They were celebrating each year at the same place, but Ariya often refused. Jack and Brian were the hosts, and he never wanted to see them together. Happy. Now, it was different.

His eyes fell upon Noam. His heart was still beating faster at this side. His body still felt lighter. His mind still seemed clearer. He had to kiss him, to make his beautiful pout fade into a sweet smile. First Hanukkah, now New Year's Eve. Ariya realized he hadn't felt this glad to spend any holidays with someone for years. Noam was already trying to get on his lap, giving Ariya barely enough time to reply.

**Sure, we'll be there ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! So, I’m late again (I was trying to upload a new chapter every three days) but I have an excuse!  
> So, I might have been trying to make playlists for wrestlers like Alexander, Kendrick, Gallagher, Ali,... And may or may not become a tad obsessed with it.  
> I still -hypothetically- made a Dariya playlist that turned slightly more filthy than attempted, playlist that I -in theory- made on Spotify and, that I’ll maybe share… perhaps…one day?  
> With that said, enjoy this chapter!

Hanukkah passed faster than Ariya would’ve thought. One day his hand was shaking as he was lighting the first candle. The next day, they were packing up the menorah for the next year. He knew the blessings almost by heart now. They’d stayed awake later than usual, playing dreidel or telling tales with nothing to light the darkness around them then the menorah on the window frame. They had acted as a regular Jewish family, only with slightly different rules. They didn’t play with gelt, but with bets and real money. The stories they told were filled with golems and ghouls, memories of their past, of a Middle East they barely remembered but still felt like they belonged to.

Ariya had a lot of fun. It was his first religious holiday in years. He wondered the whole week whether or not Allah would be mad at him, choosing to celebrate Judaism after so much time almost losing faith in Him. By the last day of Hanukkah, he just guessed He didn’t mind. He wasn’t a sinner, just open-minded. There were worst crimes in the world. Plus, Noam was actually curious as well about Islam. He had asked him about Ramadan, seemingly willing to try. Ariya had told him he himself wasn’t doing it anymore, but he was still excited about it.

“You know it also means a month of abstinence til dawn, right?” he had told him, hugging him from behind in the kitchen as they were making a late dinner.

“That’s funny,” he laughed at first, but soon realized it wasn’t a joke, “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Not even after sundown, no,” he explained, knowing what he would ask next, “We both know you couldn’t hold on.”

“Is that a bet?”

“I couldn’t hold on either.”

“Is… that another bet?” he repeated, kissing his hands and smiling knowingly.

“I haven’t even had Ramadan in ten years. I was still dating Jack back then.”

Noam hummed at that, squeezing Ariya’s hands tighter. He knew he was talking about his ex way too much sometimes, that Jack just couldn’t get out of his head. He would forever remain his first love and first heartbreak.  He had seen it as his first failure. Him, the rich heir that thought that everything had a price. He could feel the atmosphere getting somber as the silence stretched between them. Noam didn’t like hearing that much about Jack. He wasn’t jealous, just scared he wasn’t enough, that he was just a replacement. They talked about it before, but only brushed the subject.

“I’m going to my parents’ for Nowruz,” Ariya said, getting away from his hold, “It’s like New Year’s Eve, but in Iran. It’s in March, on the 19th. Wanna join in?”

“Your parents, do they know… about us I mean?” Noam asked, worry in his eyes.

“I mean, they know I’m seeing someone,” he shrugged, turning the oven on, “And they know I’m bi. They really don’t care.”

“But, did you tell them that I’m…”

“Trans? No. I didn’t think you’d want me to tell them,” he saw Noam looked down, his face getting paler, “But they wouldn’t care either. In Iran, the government actually aids transsexual people. It’s pretty common. Homosexuality is seen as bad, but my parents always say they won’t give a damn if it’s legal here.”

Noam nodded thoughtfully. Ariya didn’t pressure him about it. Sure, he really wanted him to meet his family, their family maybe, one day. He also knew it was a big step for the both of them, and that maybe it was a bit soon for Noam. He hadn’t told them either that his partner was from Israel and in the back of his mind, he knew that could be a problem, especially for his mother.

Ariya was glad to have such a spacious bathroom for the two of them to get ready for New Year's Eve. Still, he liked to brush over Noam with every movement. He usually stayed home or traveled elsewhere for the event. He was alone or with strangers. This year, he was buzzing with anticipation. He’d spend the last day of the year with friends, and more importantly, with Noam.

His eyes fell upon him as he was buttoning his shirt. Noam was fixing his hair, looking at himself in the mirror. He was stunning in his viola printed shirt, a gift Ariya had made on a whim. Purple suited him really good. He himself was wearing a shirt from the same designer, only it was black and gold. He couldn't help but hugged Noam from behind, resting his lips on his neck.

“You're gorgeous,” he mumbled against his skin.

“I know, right?” he teased before laughing. Ariya's heart jolted at the sound.

He held him tighter, crushing him almost. The wave of affection he felt was suffocating, but he'd have rather stopped breathing than let go of him. He loved him, he knew it. He loved him even more with each ticking second.

They both could recognize many faces at the _Final Cut_. Dustin Rhodes, the exuberant owner, was parading in his golden robe. He was accompanied by a luscious blonde lady named Mandy. One couldn't tell whether she or the people she attracted around her was hungrier.

They barely had saluted anyone when Tony and Drew appeared in their line of sight. They both were wearing similar two-piece costumes. Noam didn't know which was the oddest between a clean-shaved Drew or a fully-clothed Tony. The latter seemed rather uneasy wearing a tie, playing with the tip nervously. They talked a little, until Noam was suddenly pulled by the collar of his neck. He turned around, only to be crushed in a bear hug. It was Pete.

Noam hadn't seen him in quite some time, mostly because Ariya would get grumpy afterwards. He returned his hug with the same gusto, a big smile forming on his lips. They started talking and before realizing it, had drifted from the rest of the crowd to a table in one corner of the room. Pete told him about his recent fights, he told him about Hanukkah. He showed him his scars, Noam showed him his pictures. They stayed over an hour just talking, being as tactile as they always were.

Mr. Rhodes grasped Pete's shoulder at some point, making them both jolt. He bore a twisted smile and whispered a few words to his guard, then waved nicely at Noam and blew him a kiss.

“I need to borrow this one,” the old man explained, still rubbing his shoulder, “Hope you won't mind, handsome.”

Noam shook his head, a bit disconcerted. He turned his head back where Tony, Drew, and Ariya were. The couple was still there, mumbling in each other’s ear, but his partner was nowhere to be found.

Ariya was sitting on the stone stairs outside of the bar. His head was tingling. His whole body felt numb. His vision was blurry and unfocused. He had gulped so many drinks to forget about Noam and Pete's proximity that he had lost count. The image of the both of them chuckling in the dark corners of the room was only becoming clearer, stretching to cover every thought in his mind. They seemed to get closer, their laughter turning more luscious, their gestures more sensual. He didn't want to go back, didn't want to be looking for Noam and finding him bend over in the restroom, moaning Dunne's name as he fucked him roughly. He was sure that was happening. He just knew it somehow.

“You're about to catch a cold, you know?” Jack's voice pulled him back to reality.

The British stood by his side, looking at the street. Smoke was getting out of his mouth as he slightly shivered. Alcohol made it so Ariya couldn't feel the cold anymore. Still, he had issues moving his hands now that he tried. He didn't know how long he had stayed out, but it was painful to stand up. He had literally frozen his ass out here.

“He's looking for you, Noam I mean,” the bartender said, leaning on the ramp and sipping the beer he had carried with him.

“So what? Pete's… isn't enough?” he slurred, his tone sounding angrier than himself felt.

“I saw how you looked at them,” his eyes finally fell on Ariya, an odd glimmer in them, “We both know nothing will happen.”

“They fucked!” he snapped, his head aching even more, “They're like… exes!”

“Even if they were, that wouldn't mean anything. We wouldn't shag,” he pinpointed before adding, “Right?”

The last word hung heavy in the air. Its sense got twisted by Ariya's hazy mind. Jack was questioning whether or not they could have sex, whether or not he wanted to. He thought of Noam, how he was moaning Pete's name at this very moment. He thought of Jack, how he moaned his name years back. He remembered Jack's hands on his body, the kisses he trailed against his thighs, traveling up to his stomach, his torso, his neck. He remembered the taste of his lips, how soft they felt… how eager he was to kiss them each day. They wouldn't shag, right? But could they kiss?

“Hey, have you seen Ariya?”

Noam had looked everywhere around the bar, had asked everyone. Everyone minus the only person he never actually had talked to: Brian Kendrick. The older man was sitting by his lonesome on the counter. Upon hearing his question, he gulped his glass loudly.

“Can't seem to find Jack either,” he said darkly, worry visible on his reddened face.

Noam felt a shiver running down his spine. He was getting tired of hearing about Jack, but Brian was his partner, so he didn't mind as much. He looked around, trying to find the right thing to say, to reassure the both of them.

“Mr.Rhodes isn't here either, maybe they needed to talk.”

“Yeah, right,” he sighed, before turning towards him, “You're Ariya's boyfriend, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, blushing at his words, “Noam, nice to finally meet you.”

He chuckled as the Scottish tended his hand and rolled his eyes. He took the bottle sitting nearby and poured himself another drink. Noam came sitting at his sides.

“You know, when I first heard about you, I pictured a bigger asshole,” Brian said, playing with his glass before downing it.

“You don't know me very well then,” he sneered, “My ass can pretty much take anything.”

Brian laughed back in a dry way.

“You know what I meant. You seem too nice for someone like Daivari.”

“You don't really like him, huh?” he asked, leaning to take a bottle behind the counter as well as a shot glass. Brian didn't say anything about his actions.

“He's a fucking dick, that's why.”

“Cause he's your boyfriend's ex?”

“Cause he tried to destroy my life.”

Noam stopped pouring himself a drink. He looked at him with parted lips. He wanted to say something, protect his lover, but the pain in Brian's voice felt so genuine it hurt the Scottish.

“He… probably didn't mean it,” he ended up staying, a lump in his throat, “He's only pretending to be a jerk.”

“Then let me tell you a story, kid. I used to work in a coffee shop near the High School on 12th Avenue. I had a good business going, kids were coming and going all day long, before and after school. Jack came every morning for his tea. He said I made the best around town. I know it was a lie now. It was the closest and cheapest teashop. He was just polite. Ariya came each time with him, ordering his…”

“Black coffee with half-a-sugar,” Noam cut him off, too proud to know his boyfriend that much.

“Yeah, that. They were 16, and always in this weird on and off relationship that was destroying them both. I never said anything cause it wasn’t any of my business. But Ariya was getting under my skin each and every time, whether by joking about Jack's situation… His mother couldn't work, and his father wasn't making enough. I remembered that one time I just snapped. I don't know what they were talking about, but Ariya took a fifty-dollar bill out and just threw it at him, saying he had learned to always pay his bitches.”

“Could've been a joke,” Noam opposed, his voice lower than he had expected.

“It wasn't for Jack, trust me. Anyways, from that point onwards, I just couldn't shut it. I talked to the kid, learning things I maybe shouldn't have, and I got me so mad. Jack must've been doing some thinking as well cause about a month later, he broke up with Ariya.”

“Wait, they were still 16?” he retorted, shocked, “When Ariya talks about it, it sounds like it happened a year ago or so.”

“He never forgot about it. A dick, I tell you. It was his first heartbreak, and he still wasn't used to hearing no. He was furious and promised to make him pay. Thing was, Jack wasn't out yet, to his parents at least. I knew they were a thing cause everyone knew I've been dating Paul London -until he left one day to chase a rabbit, but that's another story- so, they trusted me to keep quiet. That bastard shared a picture of them. Cute image of Jack kissing him, but his parents didn't find it adorable. He got kicked out, and I let him in. I mean, all happened cause I opened my mouth, so I felt guilty.”

“He must have sent it by mistake, then it was too late.”

“You're naive, you know that. Even if he did, he didn't stop there. So, Jack was 17 when he came to stay at my house, and I was turning 28. Sure, I won't lie to you, it was awesome to live with him and I know what you'll think. I did, you know, start to have feelings for him. But I knew I should wait. A few months, nothing more. But Jack didn't get it. He felt like an adult, hell he was more mature than I was! He had feelings too and we allowed ourselves one kiss. One! I don't know how that fucker took the picture, but he did. They were no charges, but people started talking. I became the town's pedo and I decided to leave. Just a couple of years, just until the threats died down. Lost my business, lost my friends, almost lost Jack, and that asshole’s still driving me insane with his dumbass jokes and innuendos. Jack doesn't get it. He has forgiven it all, cause almost everyone has forgotten. But I didn't, still haunts me in my dreams.”

“I'm sorry,” Noam mumbled, feeling a bit sick. Sure, Brian shouldn't have tried anything with a 17-year-old, but if they were still together ten years afterwards, then maybe it was fate, not perversion.

“You can't help it, kid,” Brian sighed, standing up and patting his pockets, “I'm going for a smoke, you're joining me?”

Noam nodded and left the stool as well. They walked to the front door, passing the humid hallway. His head was aching a little over what Brian had told him. He tried to focus on the ten-year gap between then and now. Ariya had changed, he was sure of it. With this thought in his mind, he followed Brian closely behind. He had forgotten about them looking for their respective lovers. The thought hit him in the face upon seeing them before his eyes, pressed against each other in the coldness of the night.

Ariya had pulled Jack for a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¡TRIGGER WARNING: Use of a transphobic insult!  
> (that's partly why that chapter took time... I thought for a long time whether he should keep it or erase it)

Ariya was surprised when his lips met Jack's. He could remember how intense their kisses felt before, how eager he was to embrace him every single second of their shared past. He remembered the sparks, the unspoken love they shared as their lips unit. This time, it felt cold, really cold. They barely kissed, and he realized he shouldn't have done it. It felt wrong, it wasn't what he had expected. Jack shoved him back immediately, face reddening as he tried to control his anger. He opened his mouth, to spill his disgust at the other man, but the voice that rang in his ears wasn't Jack's.

“Ariya?”

He turned to face Noam standing in the door frame, head popping behind Brian’s shoulder. He couldn't see Kendrick, a mere wall behind his boyfriend and himself. He felt him, however, as Brian’s fist hit his jaw. It didn't hurt. It was too cold. He was too drunk. He pathetically stepped back and fell bottom first on the stone stairs. His head was tingling, so did his mouth. He could see Brian rushing back at him, and Jack pulling him into his arms, burying Kendrick's head in his torso, mumbling reassurances at his lover while looking darkly at Ariya.

Daivari then noticed Noam again. He hadn't moved, glare going from Jack to Ariya, from Ariya to Jack. It looked like he was shaking. He was shocked, numb limbs hanging low. But all Ariya could see was a man he loved coming back from the bathroom with another man he despised.

“So, Pete wasn't enough for you, huh?” he yelled, standing up wobbly, “Nothing to satisfy you, slut. So what now? Want me to fuck you right here? Need those two assholes as well?”

He had walked to Noam, venom spilling from his mouth. He didn't know who he hated more in that instant. Jack for shoving him back, Brian for punching him, Pete for fucking his lover, Noam for looking at him the way he was… or himself for being drunk and hateful. He was at Noam’s level now and gripped his jaw tight, before yelling for the whole street to hear.

“Nothing’s enough with your little cunt,” he almost stopped there, but he was sure he could smell Pete's cum on Noam at this moment, saw hickeys that could only form in his mind, feeling betrayed and broken, he added, “Right, girl?”

He never saw the punch that broke his nose, that made him stagger back and curse loudly. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Noam's shadow disappear at the corner of the street.

Noam kept walking away rapidly. His heart was racing. He knew he was shaking. His throat felt obstructed as tears were rolling down his cheeks. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to get away. He could hear his name being called, but he couldn't even recognize the voice. He didn't dare to turn around, fearing to see Ariya's form coming for him. He didn't want to see him, not with the things he had said. His heart tightened at the memory of the relent of alcohol and venom in his voice.

The cold was digging into his skin and he realized he had left everything in the _Final Cut_. His jacket, his phone… his ID. He knew he had to get them back soon, but he couldn't walk back in there. He couldn't face Brian and Jack's faces, knowing that they had heard Ariya. A wave of hatred built in his throat. He couldn't understand why Daivari had to go to such extent. He didn't even understand half of what he was saying, couldn't believe he didn't trust him to hang out with Pete. Not when he was the one that had just fucked up.

“Noam, please!”

The voice seemed closer, and he finally put a name to it. Jack was running to close their distance. The image of Ariya's lips on his crashed into his mind. He bit his lips out of anger. He turned around, really to hit him on the first occasion.

“Hey, calm down, mate,” he said, palms towards him, “I came to be sure you stay safe, that's all.”

“I will,” he replied coldly, “Could you just fuck off now?”

 He saw Jack open and close his mouth. That same damn mouth that his boyfriend had kissed. That same damn mouth his partner had loved for the past decade. Noam wondered if he had picture Jack in his place when they kissed. He was getting sick. Tears escaped faster. His lips were trembling. He looked down, shameful to let his emotions show that easily. He heard Jack's footsteps in his direction, felt his arms wrap around him. He pulled him for a hug and Noam didn't fight against. He felt too weak to move anyway.

Jack was warm from running for him. He eventually leaned into the embrace, forehead falling onto his shoulder. It soothed his heart, dried his tears, but didn't calm his racing mind. The image of the last five minutes kept replaying in his mind, twisting his stomach.

_… Right, girl?_

His hands gripped Jack's back suddenly. He was fighting his tears. He was stronger than that, he thought. His breathing picked up, and Jack held him tighter. His hand landed on his hair, stroking it to calm him down. When his lips met his temple, Noam looked back up. Jack mumbled an apology, but he only shrugged.

“I'm sorry you had to see him like this,” he said, still holding him in his arms.

“That's his real face, huh?” he whispered with a broken voice.

“He doesn't handle alcohol too well. He didn't mean any of what he said.”

“He kissed you,” he said, anger building up again.

“I pushed him away.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he confessed, before adding, “But why?”

“He got jealous over Pete and you. I guess he wanted to make you mad as well. He has to hurt the people he thought have hurt him.”

“I didn’t,” he assured, “Pete and I, we… you know… but now I wouldn't! I love him too much.”

“He does as well,” he confessed, looking at him in the eyes, “He wouldn't have lost his mind if he didn't.”

“And he called me a…” he couldn't finish his sentence, feeling he was about to break down again.

“I heard,” he nodded, “I feel like it hurt you way too much. He’ll apologize soon, mark my words.”

“He should've known better. We talked about this.”

“It was just a stupid pet name,” he said, but Noam froze at his word.

_No, it was worse._

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

“Why?”

“Ariya's drunk and angry, and injured now. He can do anything he wants and a phone-call away from not facing any consequences,” he explained, and Noam knew he had faced a similar situation before, “He could hurt you without realizing it. Not physically, but maybe in a worse way. Do you have a place he never went before?”

“There's Pete's,” he mumbled weakly, “But I shouldn't. If he knows…”

“I don't think he’d have any right to say anything about it comes tomorrow,” he reassured him, “Wait, let me call him.”

He nodded thoughtfully. He felt tired suddenly. It was a terrible way to end the year.

The blood had stopped running from his nose, but had stained his body and shirt. The golden patterns looked ochre now, a color Ariya loathed. He was still sitting on the cold stairs. He couldn't stand without falling anyway so he opted for freezing over on the spot. He had heard Jack calling for Noam and had laughed. That lover was gone now, and he knew it.

“You're only good at fucking up, huh?”

Brian's voice came drilling into his fuzzy brain. He saw him at his sides, smoking another cigarette without looking at him. He was leaning on the ramp, hand in his pocket, but his tone betrayed his bitterness and anger.

“He’ll come back. He's just overreacting!” he knew how inebriated he sounded, how uncoordinated his limbs looked, but he didn't care, “I’ll buy him something. Then, he’ll feel better.”

“You know it doesn't work that way,” it wasn't a question.

“That's cause you're poor,” he retorted, trying to be mad though he was drifting, “You can't understand.”

“I can understand that the kid’s hurt. Seriously, what was that, man?”

“He fucked Dunne.”

“We both know he didn't.”

“He did,” he barked, standing up abruptly before leaning on the ramp for support, “Fucked him before we fucked!”

“Were you dating, then?” he asked, eerily calm, but Ariya didn't answer, “Then it doesn't matter.”

“They’re just done fucking,” he kept rambling, “I know it.”

“You don't. You're just drunk.”

Ariya didn't say anything this time either. He felt Brian’s gaze on him and diverted his face. He felt like crying as the crazed he felt was dying down. He slowly realized what he had said, what he had done. His nose started to hurt. The cold was slithering into his body, looking for his heart. Part of him wanted to go after Noam now, but he knew he had no word to fix things. He wasn't sure they'd ever be any.

“I fucked up,” he confessed in a whisper.

“Yes, you did,” Brian nodded, crushing his cigarette with the sole of his shoe, “Like you always do.”

“Fuck you,” he spat, but he couldn't find the strength to get angry.

“You know I'm right. You always hurt the ones you loved.”

“I still love him.”

“Curious way to show it,” he sneered coldly, “You don't have to care anyway. He's even more naive than Jack was. He’ll forgive you soon.”

“I'm not so sure about it,” he replied, knowing how painful it might have been for Noam to hear his insult.

“I hope for him he doesn't. Ever,” he said frankly, “You don't deserve that kid, asshole!”

“And you don't deserve Jack.”

“You still love him, huh?”

“I thought I did.”

He remembered the kiss they just shared. Jack's lips felt cold and impersonal. The memory replaced him with Noam. Each embrace they shared felt so much better, so much sweeter. It was like any feeling still remaining for Jack had died down after meeting the Scottish, a man he just had hurt because of his own pride.

“Gentlemen.”

Pete was closing the door of the _Final Cut_. He looked at both men with that same arrogant air on his face. His eyes narrowed when they met Ariya's. He passed them both and disappeared at the corner of the street quickly. Ariya saw he was carrying Noam's jacket, but his mind was too tired for stupid and jealous assumptions anymore. He heard cheers in the bar, twisting his heart. From above the roofs of the shops across the street, fireworks were blazing. A new year had begun.


	10. Chapter 10

In over two months, Ariya had barely left his duplex. His phone was reminding him of over fifty missed calls from his family, his friends, his clients. He knew his voicemail was full, but he couldn't even fake to care anymore. His phone had only one purpose now: calling and messaging Noam in vain hopes of a reply. Well, he didn't call anymore, but every day around noon, he'd send the same message.

**I still love you...**

Four little words each day. A proof he was still hoping Noam hadn't turned the page. He was hoping he could forgive him, talk to him at least. He often got lost in his own mind. Their last encounter kept replaying, left him wondering how and why. He couldn't believe he was the one spitting those words. He hoped it had been a nightmare, hoped they came from another mouth. But no, he had gone overboard. In a way, he knew he deserved to feel horrid, lonely, and shameful.

His phone vibrated on the coffee table, almost knocking off his old cup. He looked at it tiringly, but a thought lighted up his mind. It could be Noam. It had to be Noam. He rushed to grab it, but his faint smile disappeared.

**Mom’s asking if you're still coming**

It was Shawn, his older brother. He realized what day it was. Today began Nowruz. He texted back that he would be there, and realized he still hadn't told them his partner would be absent. He walked to the bathroom and got ready, thinking about what he'd say without showing how affected he still was.

Spring was coming around the corner and the two still hadn't talked to each other. They never met again since New Year's Eve, both avoiding the other. Noam had stayed a couple days at Dunne’s, who almost broke his phone as it was ringing incessantly. The first days back home, Noam felt paranoid. He feared to see Ariya knocking at his door, doubted he would do anything more than punch him, then fall into his arms once more.

People told him it was alright, that he loved that man and that his feelings would fade with time. If the cold had turned into warmth, his love hadn't turned into hatred. He still scrolled through the pictures, remembering the sweet moments they spent together. For hours on end, he'd remember, then try his best not to cry and stay idle on the sofa hugging himself. It had been over two months, but the pain hadn't changed.

To keep from his memories, he'd spend time at work, then with friends. Most of the time, he was at Drew's and Tony's or Pete's. Somehow, Brian also texted him a few times. He really started to like that guy, and he went to visit sometimes. He discovered Jack shared his love for video games and played for a whole night once. Noam even slept in their house. He hadn't slept well for an entire week beforehand, but the presence of other people around soothed him. No one was complaining yet about him always being around, but he felt that Drew was losing patience, telling him over and over again to do something about it.

“Either you let go or you go back with him,” he sighed, “It isn't that hard.”

It was noon, and the three of them had a day off. Tony was putting the table and Drew and Noam were discussing the same old topic while Ben Jerry was begging for being caressed by the Scottish. He decided to turn his attention to the dog and not the owner. They had already talked about it.

“You know he's losing it as well, huh?” Drew insisted, but was ignored again, “He doesn't want to see anyone. He snapped at Tony when he tried to call.”

“I don't know what he was saying,” Tony commented, “But it sounded really mean.”

“I'm sorry, Tony,” he finally mumbled.

His hand had frozen on the dog, who looked at him worryingly. Ben Jerry came to lick his hand, and Noam sat on the floor, looking down.

“He's as much as a mess as you are,” Drew confessed, squatting to be at his level.

Noam's phone beeped and they all knew who it was: Ariya. Every day, he received the same message. He didn't know how to reply. He didn't even know if he still loved him, if he was mad about him. He felt so disconnected he didn't even know if he still felt anything.

“You have to talk,” he continued, a warm hand on his shoulder, “We see you both, and I can tell you that everyone's hurting from the situation. The two of you in particular.”

“And what should I tell him?” he asked a bit too loud, a bit too harsh. He could feel tears tickling his throat again.

“How you feel. What you really want,” Drew said, calmly, “The truth. Anything, really. We all need it, you know.”

“We? We?” he snapped, standing up abruptly, “Cause it's as hard for you as it is for us, huh? You just want it all to stop? Alright, fine!”

He took his phone out and angrily tapped on the screen. He heard Tony and Drew speak, but he couldn't listen to them. Tears were burning his face. He felt a hand grab his arm, and jerked himself away from their touch.

“No, no. I get it,” he yelled, “You’re too fucking tired of us cause the situation is so simple, huh? So simple for you. Here, see! I fixed it, simple.”

**Please. Stop.**

Ariya was still ogling at his screen when he entered the family mansion outside of town. The screen was broken. He had thrown it against the wall out of rage, then tried to hold his emotions back. He didn't know what to say. It couldn't stop, it was impossible for him. He hoped the first day of celebration would take his mind away from Noam, before he started acting without thinking again.

His mother opened the door and greeted him with the warmest smile he had seen in a while. She hugged him tight, telling him how glad she was to finally see him after almost six months. He knew he could visit them, but he had never been a family guy. Money was a good replacement for love for the Daivaris. He hugged her back with less gusto.

“Are you alright, honey?” she asked, her motherly instinct kicking in… or maybe she could see how his eyes glimmered in the light.

“Y-yeah, mom,” he said, looking behind her at the guests, “I am.”

“So, where's your boyfriend?” she asked eagerly, her smile growing bigger, but almost too big to be genuine.

“He…” he swallowed hard, “We broke up.”

“Well, I guess he wasn't the one either,” she dismissed and stepped aside, “Come on in, little Mustafa wants to see you!”

Mustafa Ali had been Ariya's friend since he was born. Their families were extremely close. They used to play all the time together, though Ali was a few years older. Mustafa was the one keeping bullies away from Ariya when he was a freshman. He was the one that introduced him to Jack, and the first to hate him for how he had reacted to their break-up. His mom never understood that Mustafa still held a grudge for his behavior, that and the fact he made friend with Drew Gulak, who wasn't the best kind of acquaintances back in the day. They always talked respectfully to one another, but Ariya knew it was too late to apologize. That their friendship had forever been broken and that every Nowruz would be awkward, hence why he was glad they didn't celebrate traditionally. His parents had only so much time for a single day out of the thirteen, where everyone was invited to a feast. Tomorrow, they'd call the remote family members or face-call them.

“Uncle Ya-ya,” Mustafa's only child came running towards him. He barely had time to kneel and catch her in his arms.

“She grows up so fast,” he commented as she ran behind other kids gathered in the dining room.

“Well, she's almost six,” Ali laughed, then hugged him, “So, how are you?”

Mustafa was the personification of warmth. His smile was blinding, his gestures were affectionate, his eyes were a puddle of melted dark chocolate. Ariya couldn't help but laugh back. They hugged a second too much, but the Iranian-American needed this warmth.

“I’ve known better days,” he confessed as Ali was practically family.

“So, I've heard. Jack told me you got into a fight,” he said almost mockingly, “He said your opponent was shorter, younger and overall weaker.”

“He got me by surprise, alright?” he tried to snap, but only pout when he heard that harmonic laugh again.

“You really haven't changed. You still need someone to save your ass after you speak,” he kept mocking without sounding mean, “Anyway, I won't tell your dad, promise.”

They were little things Ariya never told his parents. The ten-thousand dollars he had lost in a bet once, all those times he was drunk, and those when he lost a fight. To be honest, he couldn't remember even talking about the fights he had. But if Mustafa only meant to humor him a little, he didn't realize bringing up the subject was bringing up memories he didn't want to remember right now. The pain of the punch, the look in Noam's eyes, his own words, ...

“Hey, bro,” Shawn wrapped an arm around his shoulder suddenly, nodding at Ali at the same time.

Shawn Daivari was his older brother, the heir of the Daivari fortune, as the media said. He was a bit louder, a lot prouder, and everything their parents needed him to be. Ariya knew they didn't mind their younger son not to be what they had first expected as the first one had brought it all. He was married with two kids and a visionary for their business. The only flaw in the picture was his love for liquors, but what their parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

“So, where's your partner?” he asked, playing with his eyebrows.

“There's no partner,” he shrugged. This time, Mustafa's sorry smile couldn't stop his sadness from showing up.

“Really? I'm talking about that Israeli kid you did Hanukkah with. I still haven't told Dad about it cause, you know…”

“You can,” he said darkly, “There won't be any more Hanukkah anyway.”

“Oh,” he let out thoughtfully, “You know, the way I heard, I really thought he was the one, you know. You actually stopped talking about Jack.”

“Did he?” Ali interfered, almost choked, “That guy must really be something.”

Shawn and Mustafa kept teasing him after that, but Ariya couldn't hear them anymore. He looked down as his vision blurred. He was crying, knowing how much they were right. Noam was the one, had been at least, and he had screwed his own life over one too many drinks and one too many assumptions. They could've been here, right now, enjoying the celebration. Ariya would have introduced him to the entire family and hushed the ones a bit too curious about this beautiful foreigner. Now, he was alone, and sorrow was freezing his heart.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, as he left them for the first floor.

He had hidden from the rest of the party in his old room. He and his brother had a cache in there, where they put bottles. They knew if they'd get caught, even now, they'd get the whopping of their lives, but he didn't care back then, and didn't care either right now. He found an old whiskey half-empty and gulped it straight from the bottle. He was sitting on the ground, battling the last sobs and keeping them inside his body. He felt like a wreck and hated himself even more than ever. He took his phone out. His hands were shaking.

**Please. Stop.**

**But do you hate me? Talk to me.**

**I really need it.**

**Please.**

“Look how forgot to lock the door!” Shawn had come in without Ariya noticing. He jumped and almost dropped the bottle and phone, “If I were Dad, you'd be dead.”

“That's the least of my problems,” he sneered bitterly, erasing his last unsent plea on the screen.

“That's about that guy?” he asked, locking the door behind him as he walked into the room.

“Noam,” he informed, before taking another gulp and handing the bottle to Shawn.

“Noam,” his older brother repeated, sitting in front of him, “You really loved him, huh?”

“Love. I still do,” he confessed, sniffing loudly as a lump was forming in his throat.

“How long? Since you broke up, I mean.”

“We didn't… not really. I insulted him. He punched me. We never talked again.”

“He punched you? Wait, he's the one who broke your nose?”

“Funny, right?” he rolled his eyes, tried to get the bottle back, but Shawn refused, “Yeah, that's him.”

“He must've been quite mad. What did you say?”

“Told you: I insulted him,” he repeated, looking down.

“You were drunk, right?” Ariya nodded, “So let me guess, you called him a dirty Jew?”

Ariya didn't say anything. He wondered if insulting his religion wouldn't have been less hurtful. He couldn't tell Shawn the truth. If he finally admitted aloud the words he spoke, they'd become real, tangible. He preferred to see them as a nightmare, something that didn't exactly happen. He needed it to stay sane.

They kept drinking in silence for some time. The youngest avoided his gaze while the oldest waited for him to speak. Ariya ogled several times at his phone, still wishing Noam's name would appear on the screen, even if it was for the last time. He swallowed loudly, but the alcohol wasn't soothing anything anymore.

“You know,” Shawn finally said, crawling to lean on the wall next to him, “I never thought I’d see you like that since Gallagher.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know I made fun of you, then. I mean, he wasn't really our style, and you were so head over heels for him. I swear I thought I had a sister sometimes,” he laughed louder as Ariya looked at him darkly, “You were hysterical. I'm sure you had a diary about how much you were made for each other, with a happy ending and why not. It was cute. Stupid, but cute.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he swore in Farsi.

“You know I'm right. Anyway, you're acting the same than when he went to fool with that coffee shop owner.”

“I kissed him.”

“Kendrick?”

“No, Jack. But it wasn't… good. I didn't feel anything.”

“Ten years to get over him. What an exploit! Should I applaud you?” he mocked, but saw the look in his brother’s eyes, how low he felt, “Well, maybe you really loved Noam.”

“Love,” he said again.

He was about to add something, clutching the bottle against him. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. His phone had lighted up. Noam's name had appeared on the screen. He approached his phone to his face, eyes wide open.

**I don't know. You're a real dick when you're drunk, and I'm still not over what you said to me. But I miss you like a lot and I can't get you outta my head. You right we need to talk.**


End file.
